My Hippo Head has Music in It
by FionaGina
Summary: The Aftermath of a failed mission, Eroica's arrest, and a baby in a tree lead the two heroes into a new life. First attempt; prequels will be written on how whole product is recieved.
1. Chapter 1

My Hippo Head has Music in It

Chapter 1

Crying…a baby's crying. Klaus woke to the sound from the little monitor where the cries came in loud spurts mixed with the static. Then a male voice kept hushing with the cries, which turned into wails at that instant. Klaus flew up with Magnum in hand and in half-conscious state.

The Schloss is no place for young infants, but he insisted that his son, Gert, live in his old nursery, of course the redecoration couldn't be more ridiculous, yellow paint with prints of ponds and ducks, how emasculating for a boy babe. Yet…he enjoyed the brightness it offered compared to the pristine décor when he occupied it as a toddler.

Stopping in front of the two doors, instinct took over and Klaus burst through, weapon drawn.

"Bloody hell! What-what's wrong with you?" the man said, in a gruff, hoarse, voice.

Klaus became completely conscious.

Standing with Gert in his arms, Eroica-Dorian, held the wailing child with his might. Klaus knew better than to assume someone had broken in and tried to harm his Gert, but enemies and Dorian's own problems-namely demons- tried once. Klaus never wanted to feel helpless; the situation was out of his hand, but experience taught him it could happen again, and with an unhappy ending.

Dorian stared at him. Klaus hated that look.

"Excuse me, for this…" he waved his gun to indicate the almost assault. "I…did not know you had come home yet." _Home. I say this place, my castle, is his home._

The other man gave no thought. "I wasn't out too long tonight; I actually got here at eleven. You were…shhh it's okay baby, Dorie's here, don't cry, I'm here," Gert's wails subsided when he heard his dad enter the room, but they started up as Klaus did not come near.

"Major, I was coming to…shh, shh, look, Daddy's here…it's his 'Daddy hold me' cry."

Klaus took the cue and came forward, putting the Magnum on the diaper table. The only time Gert didn't respond to Dorian was when he wanted Klaus, his father, to be there. Dorian handed him the baby and Klaus quickly kissed his little fighter. From Klaus' knowledge he held Gert in both arms and swayed around the room, that always made Gert giggle as big dimples defined his Latin features. Gert was adopted…in a way. His parents were dead, well one of them, and Klaus did feel strongly protective for the boy, which turned into love. His father, Graf Eberbach took the news in uncertain reluctance, although one embrace with the small infant decided that Schloss Eberbach had an heir; now it awaited its mistress.

The events of the little fighter's journey from a forest to Germany he wouldn't understand so innocent and barley walking yet and the Graf thought it best not to ask.

_Someday, little fighter I will tell you, _Klaus thought and started to hum "Mary had a Little Lamb."

Dorian watched this exchange. He kept his eyes on how Gert's dimples, how his brown eyes shined with each giggle as it left his tiny mouth. Dorian guessed Gert had to be eight months old by now. They had no birthdate when they found him, and Klaus' best prediction was the babe was only a few days old. That was in August, it is now April in Germany.

Gert fell to sleep and yawned before Klaus put him in the crib, which was also new and had a mobile with ducks and frogs. The room had even been carpeted with light blue material for the effect of aestheticism, with the pond theme.

Dorian stared at Klaus again. Klaus knew and kept his head down. Before, he would meet that fop's glare full force with his own; his eyes locked secrets, understandings, and respect in those contest of sight. Now Klaus couldn't stand to look at Dorian with those blue eyes, sky eyes, that used to sparkled and hold lechery, but also eyes that never faltered in brightness and showed bravery when odds were against him. Eyes that held a promise Klaus wished he could see again.

The first time he saw Eroica, as he should be known, after Wellesley ruined their lives, those eyes were austere and every bit the aristocratic ruler should be; also anger, hope, sadness.

Klaus shook out the past.

When he had to face those eyes again, they were empty. The sparkle was gone completely and the blue darkened. That is the stare Dorian gave him now. The promise, which Klaus realized was not perverted too late, also banished and nothing but regret and hatred Klaus could see.

"I…" he failed to come up with the words.

"Please, Major, I know it's a strain on your ego, don't apologize."

Klaus kept his head down. "I'm still not use-"

"To what? You've done this four times already, making this five, I tell the butler to give you the message that I'm here and this is the first time he forgot. So, what is it then, what more do I have to do?" the coarseness in these words let Klaus know that he had been out drinking.

"No," he went to retrieve his Magnum from the diaper table. Breathed deeply. "I'm not used to you with brown hair yet and glasses."

"It's short too."

Dorian left to his bedroom. Klaus turned off the light and closed the door. His sleep came near morning.

DK*DK*DK*DK*DK*DK*DK

Dorian's hangover didn't last; he only drank enough to feel happily delusional. He did have to wait to drive and sober a bit. The agreement stayed in place, but he had to get out of the Schloss once in a while with his new acquaintances, Heinrich, Griswold, and his favorite, Colonel. Of course, that not really being the man's name, but he enjoyed being admired by the young foreigner. Colonel's name was Augustine Herrmann, a retired army man in his late fifties. Dorian took a liking to him, and would do any small favors he could for the Colonel. This did not mean that Dorian was fond of him in sex or physical attributes.

True, the Colonel had an attractive build, with grey eyes and his wrinkles made him look distinguished; he aged well, although all his hair had become white by the time he hit thirty-five, but that didn't distract from his strong jaw and olive skin-his mother being Italian and inheriting her dark complexion-the Colonel could still make knees melt and girls swoon. Dorian observed this with some interest.

Dorian wanted the Colonel for friendship, not sex, but a friend. Heinrich and Griswold were a bit more subtle in their attempts to get with Dorian, but the Colonel was fine with talking to the fake brunette. Dorian let both men down easy, that didn't stop the insistence just made it a joke amongst themselves.

Dorian loved all three men, as he loved his team…his team.

Halting that memory, he ripped off his clothes (he didn't bother to change into pajamas) and headed to the shower. It was five in the morning, but he had gotten use to not sleeping much.

The agreement Dorian and Klaus reached as Gert started to see Klaus as a stranger was for Klaus to get home at six every day, no excuses unless it was a mission, and spend time with his son. Dorian would stay out of the way, but come back for night duty for Klaus to get sleep. At first, Dorian just read a book or watched a movie on the telly. It became boring, so he went out and met the three men who made life a bit more bearable. He went out twice a week and tried to get home by midnight or earlier, for Klaus was finished with his work out by then and Gert in bed.

Dorian came out of the shower donned on clothes and headed to the kitchen. He found it much easier to dress with his new wardrobe. Most of it consisted of pants, such as loose jeans, corduroy, and khakis. The shirts were long-sleeved or three quarter length with buttons and bold colors or a striped design, like the one he chose to wear this morning that had a cowboy feel with the cloth on the shoulders and some studs for effect. He kept his old shoes, except for all the boots; he had to get rid of those. The new shoes were sneakers, which he didn't care for, but they were comfy and inconspicuous. All in all, this new attire he wore was the exact opposite, simple, clean, and tamed.

He kept his jewelry; it was rare for him to wear more than his diamond earrings.

Cook, Fraulein Huber, saw the brunette nanny enter the kitchen with his usual "Gut Morgen" and a smile that rivaled the sun. The woman did not know the master, Herr Eberbach, never saw the nanny smile. Tim O'Casey, the new nanny after the other blond one died, was a bit of a blessing to the staff as Cook knew; they did not suspect for the master to get so use to a new person, especially a Yank. It was strange that he chose a man to care for his child, but the master himself was raised by the butler and his father.

"Morgen, wie ist das Kindermadchen?"

"Ich fuhlemich ein bisschen schwach." There was also the fact that Tim spoke German well.

"Nun, wie ware es mit Wurst und Eier Wiht verklemmt Toast?"

"Wunderbar."

Cook passed the plate to Tim for him to eat.

Tim insisted the master eat with his son to have more of a bond. The staff thought of it as an easy task since the precious boy bonded with Tim on the spot after Lord-…the blond one died.

Dorian could hear Klaus tromping down to the dining hall. He had prepared Gert on his high chair and sat at the end just in case something happened. Klaus seemed to have the handle to getting all the baby mush in Gert's mouth and not on the floor, but would get impatient and yell at the staff.

Klaus sat at the head greeted by his servants. He saw Dorian at the end with his glasses on.

"Tim, I'm a bit tired this morning, come feed Gert his breakfast."

Dorian's eyebrows twitched. He didn't want to be anywhere near Klaus, hard as it is to believe now, but Gert came first above all petty hate and jealousy.

"Yes, sir," Dorian's Boston accent was flawless

Klaus ate his food passively, hardly tasting the home made yogurt and perfectly poached eggs. He felt Dorian near and wanted to tell him…what he never comprehended. He knew that he wanted to know why he had such dead eyes when around Klaus. Klaus heard the servants and other people described Dorian-Tim to others-as pleasant and with such a beautiful smile. Klaus didn't receive more than a grin when Dorian showed some joy.

From the corner of his he could see all Dorian's attention on Gert. _Mein Engel. Mein kleiner Krieger._

Klaus stopped abruptly with chewing…toast he supposed, in his mouth and stared at Dorian and Gert directly. _Who was I referring to?_

"Major, your food is cold."

Klaus didn't look.

"I'm taking Gert upstairs. Have a good day." Dorian picked Gert up; placed the boy's head near Klaus. "Kiss Daddy good bye."

Klaus came back. He planted a gentle kiss on Gert's chestnut hair. "My little fighter," he whispered. On his way to work, Klaus knew who _Engel_ was_._

DK*DK*DK*DK*DK*

The Alphabets saw the change in their boss. He yelled less, didn't smoke as often and he seemed more sympathetic with personal problems, especially involving the agents with young children. For the new agents and the old this change came as a shock, a mental breakdown and a blessing from Iron Klaus, Scurge of NATO, Fear of KGB with his mighty green glare.

Some, though happy, also found this as a sign of Doomsday.

A, B, G, and Z were the ones sensing calamity. Of course, it is good for the Major to finally have a child of his own; he still had the world at his hands with secrets and a conflict of duty to family and his job. The fear was unspoken, but felt. Major Klaus Heinz von dem Eberbach quitting!

Unspeakble. Impossible. Probable.

Agents A and B were more outraged by this private fear than others. Both men it seemed had to fight tooth and nail just to have some time for their family, never wanting to quit their job, just needing a break. There was always the threat of Alaska, having already went to the place it did not seem so horrible a fate.

But now, NOW, the Iron has come to a stop and it might disappear.

DK*DK*DK*DK*

Tim spent his day tending to the young master Gert. The older staff, such as Cook, wondered what could Master Eberbach had been thinking when adopting a child of another origin, deplete of any German background; as the months rolled by, all members of the Schloss gave in to the dark-skinned, dimpled, bouncing baby. So what if he wasn't German by birth? The boy would grow, love, speak, and work the German way of life. What more could be asked.

Although, the mystery of Tim existed.

Tim's appearance after the first-rest his soul-left was disconcerting to the Schloss and its staff, but he proved to have the master's and Gert's best interest. His German though accented was crystal clear-like the blonde one, all knew not to think his name- and he was always patient, friendly and kind to everyone. Tim even would help with some remedial housework as Gert slept.

He was trustworthy, too, something that the new butler, Hans, had found odd because he had yet to receive any amiability-as it is known for the staff-from the master, and Tim the Yank-Nanny was allowed one of the cars to take Gert out, which he did every day during the warm season.

Tim O'Casey: who are you?


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Dorian sat on the bench near the sandbox with the usual powwow of single mothers and housewives who loved their kids so, so, much; they would never shut-up.

"You should have seen how my _liebling, _decided to sit up, all by herself."

"Well, Christine, my Ava decided no more diapers this morning…"

Dorian watched the children while the dragons and milfs prattled on. With his livid imagination, he could put their voices out as white noise. Gert played with his best friend, Edwin, the son of a housewife whose husband worked in a large corporation, and apparently took a liking to the young nannies that his wife got, until she finally decided to get off her ass and raise her son. Edwin, a little older than Gert, loved him as a brother.

At this point, Dorian's white noise had an eerie ring in it that kept rising until he realized that Henrietta, Edwin's mother, was asking him a question.

"I'm sorry dear, what is it?"

"Oh, Herr O'Casey," the joke of Dorian's too-Irish-American name continued; from those with thick accents it sounded like 'Oh'Kazzzeee' on a good day.

"Ja."

"We-the girls and I," women taking the plunge of life with no nanny, "were wondering if you would like a little get-together, once a week."

"Frau Fritz, I believe we see each other here every day," _To my great displeasure, you fucking Bitch. _Even the Major noticed how Dorian's curses were more cutting and brutal.

"That is true, but we wanted to do something more with you, and ourselves, without the children. Our church has different daycare hours for the week days, and I think Edwin and Gert should use some more company. It'd just be for an hour or so."

_You lazy, gold digger; you had just started two months ago on TAKING CARE of Edwin, now you want to leave him._

"Where exactly would we go?"

"Oh, just shopping and some brunch if we're in the mood," with each word, Henrietta came closer to Dorian, her Channel suit ruffles were grinding concrete to his ears.

"Or, you and I could stay here, and let the girls go 'round while we wait."

Backfire of Dorian's disguise and outward appearance: he could be mistaken for straight or bisexual. With his outfits being tamed and plain, there was no variation. And his short hair, though still curly and shining, was less outrageous than his old mane of golden curls. The glasses were special; they not only shaped his face to make his high cheekbones less defined, but also made his eyes brown to those who saw him besides the Major and his father.

When he first showed this disguise to the Major, he had almost seemed about to faint.

"Frau Fritz, thank you," Dorian scooted back in his seat a little, "but I must decline. You see, I enjoy this park too much to want to see any other beauty, and Gert simply is too young to be left without me. I'm absolutely dreading when I must," he scooted more as Henrietta advanced, "send him off to pre-school. Coming here I think is better, cause he can learn to be around others and I can be here."

Dorian was at the edge of the bench when Henrietta stopped.

"Oh, please. You are so kind. And it is sad what happened to you and your poor wife. I believe a man shouldn't just devote his time and energy in one thing, don't you, Herr O'Casey?"

An advantage to the disguise was people didn't question whether or not Gert was his child, with them having the same eye and hair color. He lied and told these pesky women that his wife was from Peru, which in itself was true because that is where they had found Gert and his mother, and she had died during the birth, as best Dorian could guess. The image of the hollowed body on the floor –

Dorian bit his tongue.

No one questioned why a single father did not work for the first few months, when he had met the ladies, but eventually curiosity got the best of them and Dorian told the lie that he had gained an inheritance after his uncle died. That bit was the reality of the real Tim O'Casey. They didn't bother with any other questions, except the occasional 'are you seeing anyone?' that Dorian found himself snorting at.

He gave up. He gave up on the Major, on his life, on beauty and anything else.

Except Gert.

Unless the Major decided to have him leave for 'corrupting' his child; if that ever came into the wood work, Dorian had reason to just disappear into the other world. Graham said he would wait, Dorian knew he had to take hold of the unfortunate destiny his ancestor Luminous Red left him.

"Sorry, but no. I…don't feel like being too friendly with others," _You fucking Kraut Bitch._

DK*DK*DK*DK*DK*

"Ich liebe Kaffee, ich Tee liebe, ich liebe Gert und er liebt mich."

Dorian sang the little melody with ease. Gert was happily splashing in the tub to the tune as Dorian soaked him with the scrubby hand puppet frog. He thought of the design for the nursery when he saw the drab he came to at first. The idea came from sitting by the pond in the park for the first weeks living in the Bonn apartment. This brightness was Dorian's gift to his little tree boy.

"Okay, now for some English since the big bad German isn't here," he sang the tune again. "I love coffee, I love tea, I love Gert and he loves me."

In truth, this wasn't a tune; the song was more of a worded pattern. Dorian came up with it when he grew tired of "Mary Had a Little Lamb." He saw that Gert enjoyed the smell of heavily milked decaffeinated coffee when Dorian himself drank some. Gert also loved tea scents, to Dorian's immense delight. The tune came afterwards when Dorian listed down the new happenings of Gert in his baby book; he doubted that the Major thought of this, so he took liberty to document the growing babe.

Major Eberabch called ahead and informed that he had too much to do and could not come home that evening. Dorian felt glad to have Gert all to himself this evening, but envy at the Major's granted behavior with time for Gert.

Each moment Dorian spent with the baby, the harder it would be to leave when that German decided to get rid of him.

_I could take Gert with me. _That evil thought should be commonplace by now. Dorian still shook with it.

DK*DK*DK*DK*DK*

Klaus did not have any work to do. Since his missions became less hazardous for the NATO personnel and accounting department to claim, less paperwork was thrown at him. What he needed on the other hand was a tall dark beer. The bar near his office was descent and low priced. Klaus sat on the stool dreading the ride home. He knew he had to go back, that his apartment in Bonn would not do as a hideout from what troubled him. Dorian had a nursery installed there for Klaus to take Gert when he could to the city.

Klaus wanted to scream. _Dorian, what did he do to you? Why do you seem to…hate me?_

It was a fact, not a theory.

Dorian, the once flamboyant, gay, aristocratic, narcissistic art thief who would dote on Klaus in all scenarios, hold the advantage in wit and never lose composure even with a Magnum pointed at his head, always showered Klaus in unrequited love. This same man showed loyalty, devotion, and would risk his trivial paintings for survival; a man who also would stop at nothing to help Klaus in a difficult situation. A perfectly intelligent idiot showed pure contempt for the Major.

Klaus gulped his beer down in large mouthfuls to get a sense of inebriation.

The change in Dorian happened rapidly. Not really; it was more of a course of months with a demon. The most significant change being that look in the eyes that no longer sparkled.

Klaus chugged the last of his beer and left before memories started to disturb that one incidence when he went to see Eroica, knowing he had Achilles. What he found…that the rumors…No!

Klaus arrived home late. It was near one in the morning and he avoided coming home as much as the plague. He was completely sober as he entered his study, so he noticed that Dorian-without the glasses, thank heaven-was seated in one of the chairs with Klaus' brandy in hand.

"Hello Major."

Klaus' first sense of apprehension left as he looked Dorian in the eye. The hatred wasn't there, they still didn't sparkle, but they were calm.

"Erm.." _Verdammt, say something. You can talk to him now, he's not drunk, is he?_

Klaus scanned Dorian up and down. The man had no coarseness in his voice, which meant he hadn't been drinking heavily. It seemed that he had that one glass of brandy with him.

"Thirsty, Major?"

"Ja. No brandy, please, some water."

Dorian went to the cabinet to inspect for a cooler that kept the wine chilled. Klaus had it installed in his study in case occasion called for it. The cooler held a bottle of water. He handed it to Klaus.

Dorian sat again, sipping his brandy and swirling it around listening to the ice cubes clank against the glass. Klaus sat in the chair at the desk. He studied Dorian. The Tim O'Casey façade he used was American, a New Enlgander, and Boston born and raised from Irish descent with a thick accent. Although, Dorian's German had improved enough for people not to notice his accent-the British one-he only used his Massachusetts drawl in public and when the staff was present. In private, Dorian spoke normally, but with no purrs. Klaus found it crazy that he begged for one innuendo, just to hear that purr, that seductive lilt that made Dorian…Dorian. Eroica had a different kind of lechery, but Dorian's was more innocent if still heavily put. With Eroica, there was no telling if he meant it, but Dorian did.

"How much did you drink?"

Klaus only lost composure for a second. "Just one. A boot."

"Oh, alright," Dorian tsked this and bit his lower lip. "Major, my job is to help raise Gert and care for him, but I like a night off when I have them. Of course, that is redundant, I have most evenings, but usually I'm too worried to actually enjoy."

Klaus drank his water, he hated how it bubbled.

"Last night was one where I could have fun and mean it. I got home early because Griswold-remember him-well he got into a heated groping with…someone and he ended up being escorted by two officers. I did stay a little longer with Colonel-…" Dorian gave a weary stare. Klaus hated this Colonel Herrmann, for reasons he wouldn't admit.

"I'm babbling, but point is, you were tired. I know you didn't have much sleep; you needn't tell me, so I know that you wanted some peace. Major tell me you need a break, that's all." Dorian swallowed the last bit of brandy and got up to leave.

Klaus breathed in heavy. "That's all!"

He didn't yell but clearly Dorian heard the serious tone the words held. He sat back down.

"You waited all this time just for that..that-Fuck what was that?!" Still not yelling, but repressing the urge.

"I didn't wait for you. I came for the brandy and then you entered."

Calm monotonous words. They were the coldest Klaus ever felt thrown at him.

"I'm sorry," Dorian continued, "it's just I don't like that you think you can lie to me. I meant what I said, tell me you're tired and I will do all the parenting and leave Gert all clean and dimpled for you to kiss goodnight and play with."

_What? Who the fuck are you? Why… Bastard. Idiot. Thief!_

That last thought caught Klaus. Dorian was no longer Eroica.

Klaus calmed. Dorian just…stared. It was not hatred. Klaus could not take that now. Dorian grinned.

"You know, this kid's going to rule the world."

"What makes you say that?"

"Between your strength and my skills he'll be an unchallenged spy, never needing a thief or a gunman. You'll teach him how to hold a Magnum one handed, and I'll show him the great art of picking locks and throwing knives, if the gun is out of bullets and he needs a weapon. Imagine, the world's leading super spy."

No hint of sarcasm. Klaus grinned.

DK*DK*DK*DK*DK*DK*

August XX: Place Peruvian forest near Andes Mountain

"Klaus."

"Yes."

"I know we're probably both crazy, but do you hear-"

"Yes."

Both men were hearing it. Faint but loud enough. The cry of a baby. Following instinct the spy and the thief discerned where the wail could be coming from. They arrived to a tree that had giant roots to the bottom. To one's imagination, the tree could be seen as a castle in the denseness of vegetation, all protected from man. Dorian and Klaus looked up to see something unusual and fairytale: a tree house.

The two turned to each. Klaus carried equipment for climbing and Dorian was a cat. In less than ten minutes Dorian set up on his way to the giant's head for the confirmation of them just being insane.

The tree house was not what a regular old fashioned one appeared to be. It was more like a tent with a floorboard and a smell. Dorian regretted finding the source of that smell.

The crying hadn't ceased since they arrived and it grew louder as Dorian entered the unstable house.

"Anyone?"

"No, I think the baby's behind the next curtain."

Klaus frowned; a worry reached him about what else could in that giant's head.

Dorian went to the next room through the cloth. The smell earlier became clear. The mother of this boy as he saw had died in labor. He wasn't sure how, but she had no other wounds or signs of death. The boy Dorian lifted up and started to cradled. He smelled as bad as his mother, but somehow lived.

"Dorian."

Klaus yelled again. The thief hadn't answered and the crying seemed calmer.

"Dorian."

He came to think that would get the thief's attention since Eroica, idiot, and faggot didn't work.

"Damn it, Dorian-"

"What?"

Dorian came back after picking up the boy. "Yes, Klaus."

"Whats up there?"

"Just the baby."

Klaus' scowl became evident. "I know, idiot. I mean can you tell where the parents are?"

Silence. "Here…they're dead-well," Dorian swallowed, "the mother is."

Now Klaus was silent. "Was?"

"I-uh…I-I don't see a father."

The men were quiet for several minutes, the baby cries filling the air.

Dorian came down with great difficulty as one arm held to the boy and the little supplies he found in the tree house.

The question remained: How did the baby survive without a mother?

Two Days Later

"You know we're gonna die."

"Yes, I know, you mustn't be so crude about it."

"That boy's dying with us." Klaus stared at the tiny thing. His eyes were shut and all his veins show through paper skin. Klaus wondered if a small cut could easily break that body, which seemed so fragile.

"I know," Dorian said this as he held the boy.

They had taken to great effort to give the boy food. Klaus guessed that he was only some days old because of his size. The supplies Dorian carried down the tree were mostly for the baby. Formula, water, a bottle and diapers. There were none that Klaus didn't carry with the bag he had, but Dorian also brought some M.R.E's for Klaus to eat.

Dorian hardly ate at all.

"If we're dying…" Klaus began, and then stopped.

Dorian darted his glance at him, a determination the German knew so well. "Klaus, I am not leaving him. He'll die with no memories, but I will make sure he knows love."

"You love him?"

"Yes…" Dorian sounded choked.

"I do, he's a wonderful little fighter. He survived enough for someone to find him and now he's living a few more days. How can you not see his will to live and love life? It sounds crazy, but we're dead, so it doesn't matter."

"Like our titles?"

"Yes."

"Like your life?"

"Yes."

"And that kiss?"

"Oh, yes. I told you I wasn't dying without kissing you. Now though we're dying together that is absolutely romantic, sans for the reality that it's happening."

The boy stirred a little and Dorian rocked him back to sleep.

"Besides, my dear Major, if you had stayed at the crash you would probably have a higher chance of living."

"YOU friggin bugger!" Klaus emphasized this without yelling. "Idiot, you left intent on dying-"

"That's what you wanted."

"-and I'm supposed to feel guit-"

"What the fuck are you saying?"

"-about you sacrificing yourself for me. You selfish-"

"**Shut up!**"

The boy woke wailing at the sudden rattle of the man cradling him. Dorian tried to soothe him to no avail. They hadn't gone far from the tree house because of the baby needing to be fed and changed. Dorian attempted singing lullabies he knew as Klaus watched.

The next morning neither man wanted to keep going. They wanted to lie down and let fate take its hand on them and the boy. They wanted to just give up. Neither moved.

Klaus wanted to get near Dorian to hold him and the ill-fated child in his arms.

DK*DK*DK*DK*DK*

September 15th:Location Sankt-Josef-Hospital, Bonn, Germany

Klaus knew that the flares worked and he was glad for once in this life to have seen an American copter. All three were taken to the nearest base med center for wounds and malnourishment and with that done cleared to return. Klaus left with the boy, saying that it was the son of the pilot and lies about how he helped with the mother's labor. No one questioned. Not Iron Klaus' word could be tested.

Dorian was sent to a prison hospital in Switzerland, awaiting trial for his crimes.

As it turned out, the Alphabets were desperate to find their leader that they contacted the little men Eroica still had since most quit after that run in with Wellesley. Bonham, John-Paul, and Jones were eager to help because Eroica had gone missing with the Major.

As they collaborated, searching radio lines and plotting to "acquire" a jet, Interpol busted in. The Alphabets, all trained NATO agents, and in such a predicament, couldn't openly admit to collaborating with the Earl's men.

Mr. James disappeared before the Major and Eroica got on the plane.

They helped Interpol arrest the three men and sent them off.

Agent G still haunted by the look of betrayal on Bonham's face.

A tip was sent to Interpol with evidence of Eroica's crimes, and Interpol went at it. All the artwork was found in various spots through the continent of Europe and evidence linking Eroica to the Pope kidnapping several years earlier added up. NATO officials denied all contracts with the Earl of Gloria and other such liaisons. It came to Klaus like hail.

_One failed mission, and the shit hits the fan._


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

_Claws. Evil eyes. Inhuman smirk. _

_Graham sat on Dorian's chest, his hands gently tightening around his wife's neck. Dorian was naked and his skin burned with each inch Graham lowered his head. His fate sealed, Dorian did not give the beast's satisfaction of a scream. He spoke in German._

"_You're afraid, liebling, fighting won't help you, you're mine."_

_Then the demon set its jaws to bite._

Dorian jumped. He gulped the yelp that he desperately wanted to let out. He knew how to keep from screaming; Graham's abuse gave him reason enough not to scream. Bastard got off on it.

Hugging himself, he checked the monitor, praying for a wail. He couldn't stay alone, not with the cold steel around his neck. Dorian felt the collar that bound his soul to Graham, as the demon put it, his property. The fate his damned ancestor gave him was having his free will, inheritance, and his own body taken by a demon descendant of Luminous' first mate. The man made deals that gave him the advantage in theft and the seas with an all magical creature crew. Dorian cursed him every day now.

The metal collar wasn't heavy and it didn't appear unless, like tonight, the demon Graham was in his thoughts. Dorian knew that when Griswold started to touch more fervently and then throw Dorian over his shoulders rung up some unpleasant episodes with the demon in the early days of his ownership.

He sighed and held himself while rocking, trying to simper the trembles violently going through him. The collar had a chain with a cuff at the end. The owner would put the cuff on and take their prize, using the whole God-awful device as a degrading leash.

Yes, Dorian could still think on his own and led his career as a thief-with a new crew-but the collar had ensured to Graham using a word of his choosing Dorian would lose all his will and become an obedient slave. He chose "Dieb."

After the tremors of fear left, Dorian stretched. The scars on his back had healed since leaving, but they seemed to be more irritated when the collar came back. Magic he couldn't explain, but the thing would disappear once appearing for only five minutes. He sat on the edge of the bed and let his head fall.

"Oh, God, man, it might be easier just to go back."

DK*DK*DK*DK*DK*DK*

Office of Judge Etter: October 3rd

Dorian was not so lost in his incarceration and decision on life being meaningless that he couldn't strike as the most charming aristocrat that he was and make a more than approachable deal with the judge and his lawyer.

"So, what do you say?"

The judge, a stocky man with pale grey eyes and the usual wig, even in his office, gave Dorian's lawyer a questioning look.

"You would out these criminals' activities AND provide sufficient evidence to NATO, to have your men, the ones we found, free and…" The man trailed off on this because it seemed the most unlikely of all requests by this poofter thief. "You wish to stay in a maximum security prison…"

"Yes."

Dorian's lawyer, Mr. Funke, was also quite puzzled. "Milord, I am sure we could provide you with a new identity and housing. Prison-"

"No. Gentlemen, my reason is simply this: by taking this deal the world does not look down and say another rich white man got away and your people look good," Dorian gave the judge a sneer, "but also my men will be safe."

He did not continue all three knew what this meant.

"I pray for your soul," Mr. Funke whispered after they had finished the deal.

"You know I never really liked Nazis and I do believe I did the world a favor," Dorian continued, trying slightly not to sound too annoyed. He had been in jail for less than a month, knowing his men were back home and safe, but had no peace. Outing criminals, especially terrorists, were considered an absolute abomination in the Rogues Gallery and underworld. To those who got away with it, they hid in some obscure place and lived a life below their means. This deal, as Dorian knew, was suicide. All his contacts would have no choice but to turn on him and any of those damned skinheads would be after his head. Don Volovolonte had sent him a note.

_Ah, Conte, this pains me to say but I must have to settle for your lovely skin on my mantle as you at my side. Don't worry, your hair will be my pillow_

_Ciao_

That had disturbed him beyond the other death threats, and there were many.

"Besides, either way I lose-"

"Idiot! You could have been in another country under an…" Dorian let his mind wonder because of the repeated phrases.

The Alphabets had been to see him, a different one each day. As soon as Dorian saw A sitting there he turned around and left. It went on like that for weeks, each agent in alphabetical order. Dorian could not take them anymore. On this day though, the Major had a private room set up for them with no guards. Dorian was impressed because it was nice not having some bugger stare at him doing the simplest task.

"Are you even listening?"

Dorian came out of his thoughts.

"I am trying to help you. If you will take this plan than you won't be here-"

"Major," Dorian's voice was full of icy frustration that he harbored in the recent months. "You hate me. You punch me. You pointed your gun at me. You wanted Interpol to get me. You tried to get me bombed once. You never wanted to trust me."

The Major didn't respond only nodded to truth.

"I gave up the delusion of you ever loving me or even being my friend. I have been through hell and back since Graham came into my life," he shuddered mentioning his tormentor's name. "I have also grown. I won't work for NATO anymore and I'd rather be here."

Major Eberbach gave Dorian a poker face that would make Monte Carlo bankrupt.

"I'm not here for NATO."

"What then?"

"I…I-I want you to –"

"What?"

"Work for me."

DK*DK*DK*DK*DK*DK*

Gert woke to the sound of breathing. He smiled. Then he felt wetness in his bottom. He cried.

Dorian woke from his rocking chair. Hearing Gert's first cry always put him in good spirits.

"Morning, tree boy. Come here."

After changing him, Dorian went out to the kitchen in the apartment. He had a nursery set up there when Klaus told him he might spend some nights in Bonn. Of course, the remodeled room did not intend that Dorian was to be present, but of course, what the master wanted he got.

Dorian halted as he got out the bottle and formula.

A faint voice, his, from seven years earlier said: I always get what I want, no matter what.

"Ridiculous, really. You can't have everything…"

"Was?"

Klaus stood in the door way staring at the man he chose to raise his child. Dorian did talk to himself sometimes, but it wasn't too concerning. However this Colonel was a bit uneasy for Klaus to look over.

Dorian twirled around. He hated when they had to be alone in the apartment without the servants, but he did enjoy the tight space. The Schloss, though beautiful, was simply no place for a baby.

"Nothing, I'll get the coffee ready."

Klaus stayed in his spot until the murmurs of Gert caught him. The young one had grown from that tiny creature they found in the tree to be a handsome and full babe.

"Gert, you look well." As awkward as Klaus is towards children, his body language said more than his voice. He smoothed the thick hair of his son and kissed on the forehead and both cheeks. At this Gert's giggles grew. Klaus smiled. He then rubbed his nose to the boy's perfect button nose and those dimples when he laughed. Klaus wondered if ever he saw such a baby with dimples that made him proud.

Dorian watched this exchange in silence. Seeing it brought an odd sense of accomplishment; Klaus turned out to be a better father than what Dorian first speculated about the man whom everyone called a tank.

Breakfast served; Dorian fed Gert as Klaus ate the omelet and drank his Nescafe. He watched Dorian fussing over Gert making sure he ate as his own eggs got cold. This made him think of that time he went to North Downs, after the Wellesley disaster.

DK*DK*DK*DK*DK*

Of course rumors had no holding, but the ever astute Major von dem Eberbach kept his eyes opened. And the trivial details that gossip provided were all true.

Dorian's crew had quit after returning his Leopard tank. Except for Jones, John-Paul, Bonham, and James.

Dorian hired a completely new staff, and later finding out the origin of that staff had the Major on high alert.

Dorian had sold most of his property, legally, and only had North Downs to live and a house in Cornwall.

Dorian had changed his Eroica personae. No more calling cards, warnings of heists. It seemed that Eroica no longer worked except for when art went missing and was ransomed.

This also became odd, that Eroica and Lord Gloria were more practical in their form and hardly grandiose; the rumors that concerned all parties involved, not just the Major.

Rumors that Dorian had settled down with an unknown German and had a daughter; it was a man and the child his, but Dorian taking in a baby and his career made clear to all that this German ran the changes and left Dorian in charge of household affairs, like a good wife.

Klaus went there when Achilles had been stolen from the Louvre and the information he needed from the skirt appeared on his desk the following week. Klaus made it clear to the chief that Eroica did this. The fat man did not argue and let the Major go see the matter with the added air of superiority by saying: "And Eberbach, don't worry this time. I'm sure Eroica is too enwrapped with his new hubby to pay you any indecency. Besides, he has a daughter to think of, and being flirty is not good for a young girl now is it?"

Klaus kept his own. That night he envisioned drowning the fat man in his own sugared coffee.

He and the Alphabet arrived at Castle Gloria by nine sharp. Klaus was ordered to send a search warrant ahead of time because the idiotic wankers who worked in Britain thought it polite to inform a Peer of the Realm that he was to be searched. Although, that was only at seven this morning, it was impossible to imagine Dorian having any time to hide.

How Klaus was wrong; evidence for the theft of Achilles or any painting could not be found, and what was worse were the new staff. Klaus denied magic and superstition, but Wellesley made that denial melt showing that it did in fact exist. He couldn't tell, but the staff consisted of vampires, demons, nether beasts, lycans, and one draag, which was James.

Seeing Dorian also let Klaus know what creature decided to own the fop's soul; a demon named Graham. Yes the four original members were there, but the house was surrounded with the English version of these creatures Klaus had the displeasure of meeting two years previous.

The Eroica gang was mostly from lower class British families judging by their accents, and they looked plain in human form. Klaus noticed the vampires' fangs had a curve to it. One of the males explained that they were from coastal areas so curves were better at catching fish. Demons had webbed feet, even though they were all mammal, but like the vampires, they swam and spent most time near water. The slaves of these species, lycan and nether beasts were the half-dead humans that these dominant beasts gave a second life to, but with terrible consequences. All Anglo-Saxons, some Scottish or Welsh, one Irish woman, and apparently a few straights with wives or girlfriends.

Klaus noticed the children in the castle, well cubs actually. He never understood why they put him on edge, maybe for the reason the adults did.

The day was spent fruitlessly looking for evidence that never existed. Dorian-Lord Gloria-had met them at the door. That's the first time Klaus saw that look; and noticed the sparkle dim.

Lord Gloria allowed the men in and kept his distance. He also watched his crew carefully. Klaus knew the creatures to be loyal, but subtlety they lacked greatly. He wondered how Wellesley put up with Ezra and Emile. As they searched, one creature or another followed an agent and asked stupid questions, mostly just to tease.

Nearing the end it was late and no agent, including Klaus, had lunch. Dorian also skipped a meal to make sure a demon did not try to bite one of the men or a vampire try to get lunch. The nether beasts and lycans were better behaved. Klaus wanted to speak to the Earl alone. Dorian brought him to his office. Klaus took heed of it. It was not foppish, had little décor to it and the desk, though antique, was quite masculine. He wondered if it was the influence of Graham.

Dorian poured himself Bourbon, which surprised Klaus, considering that the man preferred elegance to actual strength in drink. Then sat down in the leather bound chair behind the desk; he took out another smoke-Klaus also noticed Dorian smoked more, there was a pile at his feet when they arrived-and waited for Klaus to speak.

"You sent the information from Achilles to me, didn't you?"

No reply.

"Faggot, answer me?!"

"Major, you have it, don't you? There's nothing else needed," the sheer casualness had loads of the man's own malicious nature in it.

"It's not my place to judge, you still stole-"

"Milord," the radio on Dorian's hip beep, yet another change.

"Yes Bonham."

"Delilah wants to see you."

"One minute."

Silence as Dorian got up. He went to the door and Klaus peered as he looked back.

"She's my daughter."

Dorian returned after ten minutes. "Dreadfully sorry, but you see she hasn't seen me all day. I had Meredith take care of her and Delilah is great friends with Dovie, her daughter, so I figured she wouldn't mind."

"A girl, huh? Thought maybe you would have preferred a boy."

The aura of malice returned and choked Klaus as Dorian stared him down.

"No. In fact, if I ever decided on a baby of my own, it most certainly would be a girl. With the papa being a perverted fag I couldn't teach a boy how to be a man or talk to a girl and forget sports, but a girl, she would be able to grow up to be the most seductive and legendary flirt. Men dropping their jaws just to see this fine femme fatale; and there's the family business to carry on."

Klaus knew what this meant, a new outrageous thief after this one.

"Oh, really. Well looks as if you have your wish."

"Wrong again," Klaus felt a punch to the throat with that comment. "You see, even though I have a girl and I will teach her the finer points in life, I have Graham to consult. He is Delilah's birth father, and he would rather I have her be a business minded lady than the next great thief."

Klaus stopped listening as this bit was said. "Birth father. Where is the girl's mother?"

Dorian breathed and let out a sigh. Those sky blue eyes of his had sympathy in them.

"Her mother died during the labor. Graham has not told me anymore, and he said not to test his tastes. Graham is a hardcore pervert for men, not women, but…he was very drunk."

The room's reticence became thick with the explanation. It broke as the radio announced "Milord-" then the doors burst open with Graham.

DK*DK*DK*DK*DK*

Klaus never thought of why he believed Dorian to be the one to raise Gert. His best guess was that Dorian already had experience with taking care of children. But after Herr Hinkel's illness disabled him, Klaus couldn't possibly think of anyone better. He wanted the fop around. He liked seeing him, liked how he didn't care what others thought. He admitted it was too late for these reflections as Dorian entered his life. Klaus regretted not taking the chance when he had it.

_Wellesley, you bastard, you are right. If you can hear you friggin' wizard or whatever the hell you are. I love him! But it's too late…too late. _

Klaus sat at his desk in the NATO office. He knew six 'o'clock would be coming soon and that he had to get home. He wanted to be near them again. Klaus also wanted the impossible, for Dorian, for that promise in those eyes he saw to return.

As these thoughts went through the Major's mind, A entered the office after knocking for some time. It was unusual for the Major not to hear, then again it had been an unusual thing for his boss to be a father.

"Sir?"

The Major did not look startled at this, more annoyed. His gaze fixed on the door.

"I-I did knock, sir."

"Gut, now what is it?"

"The new reports are in for the next mission. We will be stationed in the village where the smugglers are taking the rifles and other weapons. Also, we are expected to be on standby for the first few days."

Major von dem Eberbach nodded. A handed him the reports and left, giving Klaus more time with his previous thoughts. He looked at his watch; it is exactly thirteen minutes to six. Klaus sighed, this new mission would be the more strenuous; since Gert's arrival, Iron Klaus had taken breaks on any assignment not in Germany and went over two days. Needless to say, Klaus had taken a vacation, still working. After the plane crash and the hospital, he did take time off to get rest and settle the adoption of his son, but that ended quickly.

It was in October that he made Dorian the offer of nanny. Herr Hinkel died in late January; his illness getting the best. Klaus was still amazed at how the Teutonic butler that survived him and his father could become inflicted so easily, and after the Major had went M.I.A. Dorian and the old man got along splendidly in his dying days, both doting over Gert. Hinkel and Klaus' father knew the truth of Eroica's suicide and what was buried in the Red Gloria Mausoleum.

DK*DK*DK*DK*DK*

Although German by birth, Graham did seem more Mediterranean in appearance with his toned skin and dark brown hair and hazel eyes; in fact left to interpretation, he was an exotic resemblance of Klaus, except he stood almost seven feet, had a scar across the ridge of his left eye descending to his cheek, and wasn't even human.

Graham took in the scene of his wife and the man that owned his Dorian's heart. He expected nothing to happen or that anything would; his little Dorian was too frightened and knew Graham would add more bruises. But still, to ensure no future visits from his problem, he had to be as possessive as when the marriage first blossomed.

"What time iz dinner?" His accent was still very thick.

"L-llove," Dorian stuttered, "it is Thursday."

"What?" Klaus interjected.

Graham glared at the man with intense cruelty. "Ah, yez, wifey, 'z junk food night. I tink tze men roaming aroun' vould not mind leabin'; you zee all ve have 'z take out on Thurzdays."

At this, Graham removed his shoes and jacket. Like Klaus, he wore a plain suit, with the difference being the design of better quality and style. Graham changed into his demon form, which to both men was not new. His appearance altered from a human to a fur covered creature with goat horns and claws instead of nails. His face altered more with animal like features such as his jaw jutting out and a snout appearing. Like some German demons, he had hooves and not paws being that his animal form a boar. Dorian asked about how he had goat horns when boars had tusks; Graham told him his father was a Turk. He knew that his little wife did not believe him.

"We zhall haf to zee what tze men are tinking of doing. Wifey," his grin widened as Dorian flinched the second time the endearment was used, "I had Lydia make uz dinner. I don't trost tze men to make a good desizion."

With that he walked past the two broken down doors.

They ate in relative silence, if not for Delilah's questions.

"She said, 'How old are you?'"

Klaus did not understand how Dorian knew what the cub was saying. To him, it sounded like screeches and guttural noises.

"She needs to learn not to ask so many questions."

"Delilah, sweetie, let the Major eat. You see old man get grumpy when they don't have peace at the table."

"Yur mother'z correct," Graham gleamed as his so-called competition seemed disgusted at this. "You zee, a man like tze Majour iz lez inclined to feel bad bowelz later wiff proper eating."

Delilah giggled. The whole conversation went on like this: when a question was answered vaguely it was met with a jibing comment from Dorian with Graham to deliver.

Klaus ate the chicken and other victuals on his plate.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Klaus found most missions tedious that involved waiting and stake outs, although the one currently being done made sense. He and his team were out in a village in Syria, where there were rumors of advanced-as best term for the junk debriefed in the report-weaponry was being sold to Christian militia groups in Beirut. Klaus, though an atheist, did not tolerate those of the Catholic faith or any other to say that mayhem was a cause for good and a face for recruiting.

The men selling this junk were Danish, but knew how to trick idiot militias into buying cheap guns at triple the decent gun's price. Klaus snorted. His team was not supposed to be the ones to intervene, but get evidence of the Danish bastards.

They waited with cameras for the clients, but took the opportunity when the albino men left to plant microphones in the shack. The reason for the lack of evidence was no phone calls declaring deals or as to J and H's amazement when entering the shack, no weapons of any kind. So, Major von dem Eberbach and his Alphabet waited in tents near the shack to see how long it would take for a deal to come through

Klaus had a room for the night. They agreed on a schedule of waiting in the tents and coming to the rat hole motel where five rooms were procured for use of rest and a shower. Klaus missed several of his scheduled time to come, but when he started to notice the ripeness of his own person, he took the chance to bathe and take his mind off the boredom. Then again, his mind went to unpleasant thoughts.

_I am away. Dorian's alone with Gert, what if he decides to leave with him?_

Dorian threatened Klaus with disappearing, taking Gert with him. It was an argument that led to the agreement of being home at six. Then again the vehemence in the voice he said "I cannot allow another tank to destroy beauty and love", the statement being the most foppish thing Dorian had said since entering back in Klaus' life, but with a cutting edge that meant what he said.

_Maybe…OH, God stop this…he'll leave._

Klaus knew where Dorian would go. To that world where they found Wellesley and his guardians, Ezra the vampire and Emile the demon, where Dorian would be taken by that demon Graham again; his soul still belonged to Graham, but the demon let him go until as he put it 'came to his senses and returned.' Klaus would never see him again. And Dorian would be turned into a lycan so he could live forever and serve that demented beast.

_Damn that idiot for making me care._

Klaus was not referring to Dorian but his godfather, Wellesley the Lazarus, as he was called. Klaus relished in the memory of when he shot that bastard in the stomach. He didn't die; he pulled out the bullet lodged in his intestine and gave Klaus an annoyed look. What made this memory so proper was the man-well on the outside boy-looked angry, an emotion he kept under control.

_You deserved it. You put us in this hell and now we're paying greatly for it. Dorian got Graham as his personal tormenter and I lost him. You owe us if I ever see you again. And Dorian might…leave. Back to that thing, which beat him and raped him, just because…_

Klaus felt cold. He went to check on the men to see how they were doing. When he heard of the little progress he growled and wondered how long they had to stay until something came up. He didn't want to be alone with his thoughts again, especially where they were headed to next.

_What if he leaves me for-No shut up, damn it-yes for Colonel Hermann?_

It may not have been apparent to Dorian, but Klaus could see, yes, he wasn't as thick to these sentiments as others thought of him. The way Dorian had described the old man and how he blushed when he first mentioned him to the Major, saying that he just calls him 'Colonel'; Klaus felt sick at how the fop found another military man to dote on.

He also admitted that Dorian used to describe him that way. And that the wistful glint he had in his eyes after spending time with Col. Hermann alone without the other two perverts.

Yes, Klaus saw that clearly this man, who had a higher rank, and as the Major investigated, a clean cut career with friends, although married before, did not seem ashamed of his lifestyles, and who had the time to spend with Dorian, could easily sweep Dorian off his feet. Klaus sat in one of the uncomfortable chairs and sighed heavily.

_Mein Gott, I wish….I want it to go back to the way things were, not this Hell._

DK*DK*DK*DK*DK*

"Jawohl, Colonel." Tim skipped away happily as Augustine 'ordered' his companion to get the drinks. He gave his money to Tim to pay, but ordering felt good. They were alone, the two horny dogs, as the Colonel saw fit to call Griswold and Heinrich, couldn't make it; those two, always taunting Tim and groping his backside. It was harmless and playful, but still sometimes led to chaos. Like several weeks earlier when Griswold got shit-faced and deciding to grab Tim, hoisting him over the shoulder and yell 'Ich bin verdammt eine Nutte heute Nacht,' to call Tim a hooker in front of the whole bar was too much for Augustine. He rightly kicked Griswold just below the groin and helped Tim up. Under booze and an obvious erection, Griswold became violent. He was no small man; the night ended with Griswold using his persuasion skills not to go to jail and Tim heading home.

Augustine hated to see Tim leave, especially that night. The young man actually seemed to be having fun and enjoying the time without his maniac employer.

Tim returned with the drinks, and pretzels. Tim had that mischievous smile. "You did give more than just for the drinks, sir," he added this with a mock salute.

Augustine glared with amusement gleaming in his pupils. "Soldier, we do not spend more than what the commanding officer, ME, gives you to spend, understood."

With a pout meant for the stage Tim said, "Jawohl, sir."

They ate the pretzels and drank the beer in silence. He knew Tim did not feel like talking. Obviously, his employer had said something to him.

Augustine, a retired Colonel, knew he could never reach a higher rank than what he had, but he left with dignity. And his secret; yes, he married for a while with no offspring, even in the third marriage. He treated his wives horribly, never let them near with a pole. Augustine was no fool. When they did have sex he thought of some of the new recruits, which helped him pass his load onto the wives he bedded. After the third one, he gave up on family and let his secret out when he could. Most of the men he bedded he did not remember. He was decorated and did his duty for his country until his retirement a few years earlier; at that point he wondered what his life would be. Augustine was too old to offer any real companionship for another and from his marriages he wasn't exactly a considerate person. In fact, his ex-wives hated him; what chance did he have at love from a young man, much less one his age.

Heinrich and Griswold shared a similar situation, not as pathetic as Augustine, but they had trouble in love too; although both men were ten years or more than Augustine's juniors. The three men spent their time talking trash and hopping bars, and if one was so lucky as to find a lover for the night then the others would buy the drinks for the next time. Not all their friendship consisted of booze and debauchery. They acted civilized on occasion, going out to dinner or seeing a show. Then Augustine found Tim-or whoever he was.

That's the one thing Tim did not know, that Augustine recognized him even with the changes.

The Colonel denied it at first. He had seen the blond beauty one too many times passing him in the streets or sitting on a bench in the park with a baby by the pond where Augustine fed the ducks. He didn't know the beautiful man's name, but he knew enough. He stared at him when they were at the pond. It was a miracle the blond did not notice the old fag watching him, as Augustine pondered in dreamland how it would be to kiss him. His skin seem creamy from his face and the man could not be a woman. Too pretty for a man, but also had the build to be a man and not a flimsy female appearance. Augustine imagined him in a dress; the thought brought laughter and almost got caught by the beauty. And then he went away. The Colonel had seen worst wounds and had dealt with privates wanting to shoot their brains out, and yet the thought of the man dead or gone was a shot straight to his chest.

Tim startled Augustine when he leaned his head on his shoulder.

"Something's wrong, soldier?"

Tim shook his head no, still resting on the Colonel's arm.

"I…"

"No need, Tim. You can just relax, tell me about Gert when you want."

Tim nodded then buried his face in Augustine's arm.

How did he know this brown haired, four-eyed, man was the same blond beauty? The mouth. Those red wine lips that Augustine fantasized about kissing. He knew that Tim wasn't American to begin with, but pulled off that Boston lilt well. The men that Augustine spent time with had been tourist, and yes, all American. Augustine's best guest for Tim's nationality was English or Welsh. Augustine breathed in, inhaling some of Tim's clean scent; it was not soap, just pure bliss.

Heinrich and Griswold teased Augustine for liking 'Yanks.' If only they knew the truth.

Dorian awoke in the apartment of the man he trusted the most. The Colonel he supposed was in the kitchenette from the sounds, making coffee the old fashioned way, in a pot on the stove. Dorian didn't remember dozing off. He did know that after battles with insomnia and Gert's nightly needs that being completely comfortable in someone's care felt like heaven; the last few weeks had taken a toll. The Major was out on a mission that involved being out of the country for unknown time. That's what he said on the phone as Dorian called to see where the hell he was. Gert was so upset...

"Shit! I gotta get home," the announcement from the other room startled the Colonel; he dropped the spoon he was using. As Tim headed for the door he stopped dead. He had been to the Colonel's apartment once. It was in an old building and had the original décor, including the wood of the doors being dark. The door he stared now had white paint on it and a metal knob.

Dorian surveyed the room. It wasn't the Colonel's apartment, it was the Major's. Dorian cleared his head a bit, in that he heard the squeal of Gert in his highchair.

"Sorry, I should have awakened you earlier but…"

Dorian swallowed. He had a sense to worry about how the Colonel knew where he lived. Dorian touched his right hip. The knife he hid in it was there, although he did know how to use fire arms he still carried a knife for convenience of hiding it.

"…I had paid the sitter you hired and then I didn't want to poke aroun-"

"How…how did you know where I lived?"

Tim gave the Colonel a glare, which until that day only the Major received. The hatred in those blue eyes gave the Colonel a punch in the Adams apple.

"Tim…I-I am sorry again. I saw you come here once when I was passing by. My assumption was you knew someone here. I did not…know you lived in this building."

The statement was true, except for Augustine saying who he knew who did own the room they were in.

Dorian rubbed his temples…he realized his glasses were missing. He shot up and looked Augustine head on. Gert started to cry. Dorian put his anger aside until his baby was taken care of.

Augustine helped get Gert changed and ready for a long nap. He would need that to talk to Tim about what he saw. Augustine assumed that Tim merely wore colored contacts to hide his eyes. He only removed the glasses. This morning he was surprised to see the blonde's sky blue shade again. As Tim laid Gert down in the cradle, Augustine wondered why a single father would not hire a woman to raise his son. Of course, Iron Klaus was a mystery to everyone in his private life.

They sat on the couch; both men felt ill at ease. The pot brewed coffee did help a little. Dorian wanted to ask when his friend went to get _good_ coffee and not the Nescafe he's had to endure, but kept quiet. Augustine did the same. The awkward tension took Dorian's last resource of hope that Augustine would speak first.

"Do you-"_Hell, how do I say this-"_uh…know who I am?"

"In a way, yes." _That's true, I know your real appearance._

"Wh-what do you mean?"

"I mean…erm, well," scratching his head would be cliché and more stall worthy then helpful. "I-I…I saw you in the park by the pond. I fed the ducks there. You always seemed lost so I never approached you, but I," he blushed, "would look at you."

_Oh, bloody hell, that's the reason I talked to you first. I knew you were there. _"I knew you were there. I didn't know you looked at me. That doesn't answer my question." _Nothing you said has._

_For fuck's sake, I can't say this without sounding strange. _"You," as a Colonel, the direct approach was best, "had long blond hair, curly but it seemed soft. Your eyes are blue, bluest I've ever seen; you wore outrageous clothing and heels, most colorful shirts I didn't know existed. Your skin is still creamy-" _Ah, shit!_ "you know fair."

Augustine blushed and dreaded the next question.

"What gave my disguise away?"

He hadn't noticed, but Tim-he needed a name to be called-didn't try his fake accent anymore. Augustine was glad to know for certain that Tim was English.

"I-I…oh, damn. Tim-"

"Stop. Please don't call me that. I won't tell you my real name, but don't call me _that."_

_Fine. _"Fine. It's just…please don't think any less of me…I didn't me-"

He was stopped abruptly as Tim put his hand on Augustine's knee. It was reassurance; Augustine wanted it to mean more.

"Your lips."

"What?"

"Your lips, I knew from your lips. When you sat down to talk to me and help feed the ducks, I kept staring at your lips. I…Tim, sorry but I can't call you anything else, I wanted to kiss you and still do. Your lips I recognized them. No other man has red lips like yours. I-I…I didn't mean to poke, I am not sure how-"

Another abrupt stop, not by Dorian's hand, but a kiss; Augustine accepted it full heartedly, using his years of performance and real affection to put all his passion into the kiss.

Dorian had a lump in his throat; he couldn't take the comfort or the hurt the Colonel, no Augustine gave him. Someone cared for him and wanted him, and maybe later would love him. The kiss was sweet and stayed on the lips for both until Dorian broke it.

Augustine's pupils were dilated and his breathing was ragged. Dorian kissed him again, this time with more graphics, using his tongue. Augustine participated and with military precision had found his way into Tim's shirt and felt the creamy skin. Dorian took liberties too; he had most of Augustine's shirt off and saw the muscled chest with a hair line of white beginning at the belly button and descending into the trousers. The kiss was spent with tongues and groping; Augustine never had arousal from acting as a teenager in his basement hoping father won't come down.

Dorian broke away again; weary of what he felt to be the beginning of an erection. Augustine did not let him leave the embrace, but allowed the kiss to stop. They needed to breathe.

"Dorian, my name is Dorian."

Augustine stared at the man he hoped would become his lover. "It is a fitting name. Regal. That suits you."

He tried for another kiss, Dorian moved his head away. "I…my…oh now I sound crazy. My full name is Dorian Red Gloria," he wanted to see if Augustine caught on. He didn't. "The Earl of Gloria, I was also called Eroica, the thief."

Augustine stared at him. The name, Dorian Red Gloria, it sounded familiar. He blinked, once, twice, than a plethora of blinks.

Augustine hardly watched the news, he believed it to be biased, but on a blue moon when he did, he remembered the report back in December he heard the news of one Dorian Red Gloria, Earl of Gloria, aka Eroica, art thief had shot himself in the head at an abandoned warehouse. His body was found three days later when the story came out cause of a tape he sent to one NATO chief, Twitterswell. The tape contained the location and reason for this suicide and the story became international. Augustine didn't realize he had tightened his grip on Dorian until he heard him give a small whimper.

"Sorry, oh I keep saying that." Augustine had no clue what to say.

"You know."

Augustine held Dorian. He didn't want to let go, didn't to be told he had to leave. Dorian didn't do any of that; instead he led Augustine to the bedroom.

DK*DK*DK*DK*

Dorian woke up to see Augustine leave the room. He could hear Gert wanting attention. He loved that he had the Colonel to help. Gert would be a year old in a month and Dorian wanted the opinion of a military man on how to celebrate properly. Also, he wanted Augustine to stay with him.

New as the relationship was, both men accepted the other. Dorian to his best explained the events that led to his fake suicide and that the body they found was not his. He did have to explain how he became Major Eberbach's nanny; to his remorse had to tell Augustine their history: how he hated the man at first but slowly saw past the iron mask he wore and then fell in love. He told him that he tried to prove himself to the Major that he could be a friend and trusted. Most of the attempts ended in heartache. Dorian had trouble coming to the end; because it involved magic and nightmares come to life that he had to dance around, but he said that he gave up on Klaus ever seeing him as anything else than a degenerate selfish art thief. Dorian trembled as these memories came back. Augustine held him close. They spent their time at the Major's apartment, and shared every night together.

"It's not as if I'm entirely blameless; Augustine I was selfish and self-centered, I'm still vain and I do not like to think seriously. I can do these things though, I can be serious, hell I wasn't some damsel in distress and I'm not a pervert, despite everyone's protest. I like to flirt. I-I just never knew why he couldn't see past that. Why he only looked at my appearance and why he hated me so much."

Augustine could see his lover becoming more saddened by the thoughts that plagued him. He rocked back and forth until sleep took over. Augustine awoke this morning to see his beauty sleeping soundly and got out to get ready to take care of Gert.

Dorian left the bedroom and entered the nursery to find his beloved Augustine and Gert. It seemed strange to Dorian that the man had no children from his marriages, he was a natural. He could get Gert to eat all his food and without a mess. He also watched for Gert's aim when changing him. Dorian remembered the story Klaus-no, Major gave about being sprayed with baby piss. Of course, it lost its humor when Gert spritz him.

"Guten Morgen Oberst."

"Morgen, Soldat."

Dorian wrapped his around his Colonel's waist. He kissed the nape of the man's neck and started to nuzzle his ear.

"Dorian, really? I'm changing Gert's leavings," he laughed. Augustine enjoyed how affectionate Dorian was. He had never been the least intimate with his ex-wives or the tourists he bedded; it was fucking all of it. Dorian…held against the loneliness.

"So what, my darling. I act as a single father, and I've had to change his diaper many a time before you. I even had to wipe his little boogers."

They laughed. Gert was done and Augustine insisted on cooking. It was a hobby he learned after wife one: agree with her or no dinner. Instead of taking the low road, he learned to cook himself. The dishes were not elaborate as he saw other army wives do, but satisfactory and filling. He wondered if that's how he got number two and three, his willingness to cook.

Dorian sat at the table, watching Gert hold his bottle. He was so proud of the little babe. The boy was hardly comparable to the lonesome new born he found. He recalled that sight. When he told Augustine about it, the man seemed to stand on end with anticipation of it being a joke. Who would abandon a woman and her child?

The reverie halted as Dorian noticed a delightful smell of eggs over easy and sausage.

"Oh, darling that is divine."

Augustine chuckled. He couldn't help but feel happy for himself and for the new lover, his first really, that brought life into him. Even Heinrich and Griswold noticed the retired man didn't have much gumption in him. Augustine would do everything in his power to keep Dorian. And should Iron Klaus object, well the Colonel had his own ways of dealing with stubborn men.

They ate in easy silence as Gert giggled in an attempt to grab Dorian's hair. He was quickly reprimanded as Dorian held his little hand. Gert looked at him and the other man; he was just happy to see smiling.

It had been three weeks since Dorian and Augustine's first night together. Augustine thought of it as the best sex he experienced. Dorian was soft; he gave himself completely to the other man's wants. They didn't do much, because of Gert down the hall, but they had enough time to see each other. Augustine had questions about the scars on Dorian's back, inner thighs, and the giant healed gash starting at his fifth rib up to the armpit**.** He let the questions come as the weeks went by; apparently before that plane crash, Dorian was in an abusive relationship with a German named Graham. Dorian flinched at the name, so Augustine did not prod him on anymore.

At the apartment they played married couple with child, both happy with seeing how the baby grew. He started crawling on his own several weeks earlier. Outside, they were as they were. Dorian a single father, as people assumed and he failed to correct, and Augustine his mistaken father then corrected to be a friend. Augustine did admit to being slightly off put by the age difference, especially since his mid-thirties he had been mistaken for someone's father, yet he didn't find much of a problem. He'd known Dorian loved art and romantic literature. He himself didn't care for reading, but he did like analyzing art and its meaning. Dorian somehow made the analyzing romantic. They did love the same classical music.

He expected Dorian being younger and a child of the sixties to like the usual rock groups that he heard of: Beatles, Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin, and Ted Nugent. Dorian admitted to listening to a few, but it wasn't until he was much older than the rest of his generation. They listened to symphonies of all kinds from Beethoven to Schubert, Dorian's favorite, and had discussions on who was better.

Augustine enjoyed this time, he knew that Iron Klaus would be back soon, and then their problems would begin.

DK*DK*DK*DK*DK*DK

Successful mission. Klaus breathed in and let the idea stream through his head. Yes, after weeks of waiting and listening in, the Danish finally talked business with the militias and found it necessary to give them the directions to the weapons. As it turned out, the items were hidden in a warehouse near the small village they occupied. After two weeks though, the Major had received orders to arrest the men. Klaus couldn't help but grin at how the two albinos looked as he stormed in the shack, Magnum in hand, with his team behind him. The Danish were on their way to Interpol and all their client lists being processed by NATO offices in other countries.

He didn't try to relax much; his mind started those unsettling images. Dorian leaving. Dorian actually killing himself. Dorian with that old fag Col. Hermann.

Klaus ignored the majority. He knew that he was being paranoid that it was caused by his long absence from home. He wondered how much Gert had grown. The babe would be a year old in…two weeks, three. They had to guess what day in August to celebrate the boy's birth. Klaus honestly could not remember the date of the plane crash or how long they had wandered in that Godforsaken jungle.

"Sir."

Realization hit and Klaus looked at the cabby parked in front of his apartment.

"Uh…"

"Here."

He estimated the amount before leaving the cab and gave it to the hesitant driver.

Dorian sat on the couch with Gert in his playpen, rocking back and forth. He received the call that Major Eberbach had returned and would be home by noon. The place was immaculate with cleanliness and there was lunch ready in the oven. A casserole dish that Augustine taught him how to make. He breathed in and out in hushed swiftness. Dorian dreaded having to tell the Major about this…new development. Augustine volunteered to be the one to break the news, but Dorian told him that it was something he needed to handle. His lover would wait for a call and depending on events they could all go out to dinner as friends or Dorian wouldn't be able to see him for several weeks. The door opened.

Klaus inhaled the air of his home and mixture of food in the oven. He had been gone for six weeks living in a dingy hole in the ground waiting for idiot albinos to make a sale, now he breathed in Germany and his own. Klaus walked to the living room where he found Dorian looking a little apprehensive. Then his gaze went to his son. Gert had grown. The boy sat up on his own accord; he was occupied with one of the many baby toys given to Klaus by various relatives. Gert no longer resembled the poor newborn they found abandoned and left to die, he looked like any other healthy baby boy.

Dorian's heart sped up with anticipation. The Major had an uncharacteristic calm aura, which scared him more than the man yelling and throwing people across the room. He wasn't sure how to speak or…exactly how to say that he had…a new lover. _Strange, all the years I chased the man I never thought I had to explain someone else taking me, God help me._

The Major dropped his bags and sat next to Dorian on the couch. He watched as Gert looked up and smiled. Klaus put his hand in reach of the boy and the babe took the index finger in his tiny grip. He pulled at it as Klaus mimicked the motion of resisting. He played this often when he had Gert alone; doing it in front of Dorian felt…right.

Klaus picked him up and held his son.

"Holle mein Sohn."

"M-Ma-Major, I have- have a…" Breathe. "I need to tell you something."

Their eyes met. Klaus swore he saw the old eyes, the dimmed sparkle there, for one second, but he also saw nervousness and…guilt.

"Say it then."

Dorian swallowed; a lump hadn't sprouted, but he did feel uncomfortable. He didn't know what to expect from the Major, anger on the top of his list, but still…

"I have…met someone," That didn't sound right. Klaus' poker face appeared and Dorian couldn't read it. He decided to follow the Colonel's approach, directness. "The Colonel and I have…we are lovers. He and I have been together for a month or so and he has helped me with Gert. I-I haven't been to the Schloss since you left and…it's easier to be here with Gert. Augustine has spent every night here and if you want-"

Dorian had been fiddling with his hands for the whole pouring out of the relationship; it wasn't until now that he looked at Klaus. The man's expressionless face had changed into a sickened pale glow. All the blood seemed to drain, the lips were thin slits, and his eyes were wide. What made it so striking was the fact that there was that glare in the Major's eyes, which made subordinates and enemies alike know that he wanted revenge. Dorian did not see as he ducked his head under his hands that there was a glint of hopelessness in the glare.

_He has left me for the Colonel._


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

"Darling, I know..."

"Damn it, Dorian, the man treats you as dirt. I can't keep waiting…I miss you."

Dorian held the wire tightly to control his voice, "Augustine, mein Oberst, I-I miss you…" The crackling could not be helped.

After the news had been told, Klaus was sickly pale for a whole day. Dorian nursed him and watched Gert believing that if he could keep Augustine out of the Major's mind then maybe the man would not react so harshly to the relationship.

Wrong could not begin to describe Dorian's mistake.

When the Major did heal, he proffered to have dinner at his favorite restaurant. The three men sat down, two in hopes of finding a peaceful coexistence, the other wanting to skin the man alive for taking his Dorian. The best part of the evening was being seated. Klaus glared at Augustine with anger and nothing else. Augustine, the retired commander, gave one back in full force.

After ordering, Klaus started to berate the man on his eating habits, commenting on how the ex-army man didn't want _any_ potatoes. Augustine stated that he was allergic to most starches that he broke out in hives when he ate them. Then the discussion of how Dorian and Augustine came to be.

Klaus interrupted a great amount of it by insulting the Colonel on his carelessness and perversion on having sex with a baby nearby. Dorian could have pointed out again that _he _was the one who invited Augustine to bed, but the Major didn't care. Then more of this useless fight on irresponsibility and crudeness (both men had taken to expletives); Dorian thanked the stars that they were in a private room for all this.

When coffee arrived, the two soldiers were speaking of tanks. Dorian believed that this could lead to good things…more mistakes on his part. The whole evening was a fight for two alpha males, experienced in battle and strategist. Dorian drank five shots of whiskey. Since Graham, he had grown a high tolerance for such heavy spirits. He only felt a bit tipsy.

Although…with the colored cheeks and warmth of his body he slid down the seat. Military men fought over him in loud roars. He felt some odd form of stimulation from being between very well kept men with their zippers not too far out of reach; he wasn't buzzed enough to get confused on whose zipper he would remove.

And then…

Dorian woke up with grogginess, but felt quite relaxed. Until he noticed a small ache at the tip of his head; apparently, his dazed attempt to surprise Augustine had backfired, as the trained soldier found the unexpected touches as a threat and had kicked Dorian without thinking.

Dorian got up to check on Gert, only to find himself in Augustine's apartment. He saw his lover making breakfast and…Major Eberbach waiting for him with the babe.

They agreed that Dorian's relationship should not hinder his duty to the boy and that unless they were in Bonn, Augustine could not stay the night. Dorian agreed, grudgingly to these terms for the pure reason that he knew the two soldiers had stayed up all night to come to a solution, if that what it was to be called.

Dorian hung up the phone. He hadn't seen Augustine in a week. Klaus insisted on staying at the Schloss. He wouldn't let Dorian take the car.

DK*DK*DK*DK*DK

Klaus sat among his family's art collection. "The Man in Purple" looked at him with that impudent smirk and those damn pumpkin pants. He wanted to just take down the asshole and throw him into a garbage truck. He didn't though; Dorian's first reaction to coming to live with Klaus was avoiding this room at all costs.

It was because Pumpkin Pants started this whole mess.

DK*DK*DK*DK*DK

August 5th: Schloss Eberbach

Eroica wandered through the castle treating every step as his last. The injuries from the previous weeks had healed to where his ability to scale walls and open locks didn't feel foreign. The familiarity of sneaking into one's house, never being seen, and taking his target all but made his heart expand after having to be trampled on. Although…entering a building to return a work of art was unusual.

It was also cruel punishment; as if getting all the life beaten out of him was not enough.

But the painting he held now did not give Eroica the satisfaction it used to. "The Man in Purple" brought memories of unrequited love, espionage, and near death calls. Nothing in the beautiful man's grin or his lavish clothes conjured the old feelings of want, happiness, a completeness Eroica lost. No, this man only gave him back the misery he felt.

_It was lovely of the boys to give this to me. To make a forgery, but now…Oh, balls! I need to concentrate._

He couldn't though; his mind went back to the night of receiving this gift.

Graham returned early from unknown business. One look was enough to set him off.

_He nearly killed everyone! Thank god Liam and Gerald held him off long enough for Bonham and the others to escape. _

Ponti-formerly Mr. James-stayed his ground with the demon; Dorian shuddered at the sight of his poor draag almost being ripped in two. Delilah was in his arms screaming at her lungs' strength holding to the man she called Mommy for dear life. Dorian knew Graham wanted him; the carnage was a warning, yet he still couldn't ignore the blood, the wails of pain from the vampires, demons, how they were so young and couldn't fight a warrior like Graham, couldn't even match him.

The lycan and nether beasts were the first to run and keep his men safe, in case of a hunt.

When he was done with Ponti he dragged him and dropped him at Dorian's feet, saying in ancient German, which Dorian had learned to understand: "This is your fault. I said forget Major von dem Eberbach, and this," he pointed at the painting as if it was an abomination, "is far beyond forgiveness. You little whore. I can't raise a child like this-"

"Fuck you!" Dorian's anger and frustration of the last three years came boiling up. "I've been raising your daughter. This house is mine. I don't fucking care if you own my soul. I AM DORIAN RED GLORIA, EARL OF GLORIA, AND EROICA, ART THIEF. You-"

"Dieb."

The world went blank.

Dorian woke up in a hospital, with Ponti at his side, bandaged, haggard, but alive. He was in the other world; he knew by the machines around him, with symbols of the ancient English and the odd colored IV fluid in his arm. A Dr. Winston explained that Dorian had sustained multiple fractures to his ribs and arms; his right foot was sprained, his legs were bruised, he had a gash, which he almost bled from, and he had surgery on his anus from tearing.

In short, Graham had finally lost control. When he said "Dieb" Dorian lost his free will and Graham went all out on his body. He wouldn't be surprised if his face was nothing but scar tissue. Imagine how he felt to find out all his injuries, not including the anal tearing, were mended.

"But, I…"

"If you would let me; Mr. Red, your owner did inflict bodily harm to you, but as you know, most demons have healing powers. Some more than others, but they can mend bones and heal scars. Your owner, Mr. Graham is no different. Yes, you do have to be here for a bit, but your ribs and other bones will be healed in days. As for the surgery on your…" he made a motion to indicate Dorian's sex, "you'll need to stay until that is mended. And I will talk to Mr. Graham about avoiding any….uh…."

"I know."

DK*DK*DK*DK*DK

Ponti growled low in his throat. He couldn't stand to see his Lord bruised and humiliated, but what could he do except be near him. Ponti lied at Dorian's feet. Dorian watched him relax as the draag's breathing calmed and he started to snore, which meant he was asleep. Dorian thought it funny that his accountant had once been human…in a way.

The little draag's body resembled that of the Harpies of ancient myth, with elongated torsos and knees that bent the other way. Ponti's ribcage could be seen, but he ate more than ten times his weight. His skin-or whatever it could be called- was blue with a mane of dark hair from his head going down to his butt. The tail was lizard like. Dorian knew from Ezra that Ponti having five fingers, well talons, was odd; it meant the once human man that was Mr. James, survived in the new body. _Pontipoint James, that's a fitting name for you, _he had said. Dorian often wondered what the human would have been like if James' body was not used as a host for another draag for it to live.

Several weeks later Graham showed up…with "The Man in Purple."

"I have orders for you," he spoke in German for no one to eavesdrop, "and I won't use the word, which makes you obedient. Dorian, you are a thief, as one you intrude into others houses and steal their possessions. But, you can also plant things in places and hide them in plain sight. Like that story of your Gorgione's "Shepard Boy" and how you tricked the oil-money. You will return this painting and bring back the copy. We are moving to my new home in the village Kein Bars, remember that place?"

Dorian nodded.

"I…" Graham felt ashamed for this next news. Despite everything, he loved his daughter; Dorian knew that as he loved Delilah as his own. And Graham had…. "Delilah now belongs to Otto, my brother. After what happened, I came to the realization that I can't have a child, so she will grow with no memory of me as her father." He looked into his wife's eyes. The sky blue went a shade of sapphire with flashes of anger, regret, and sadness.

Graham also regretted on what he had to say next. "I won't make you live with me…I-I have money to give you, enough for you to live on and I paid rent on an apartment in a small town for two months. I…." Graham was lost in the eyes that had such power in them.

Often, Dorian held his dominance with his team and the rearing of Delilah, like now, even with the knowledge that Graham could eat him at any moment, Dorian still defied him. He gave Graham a reason to lash out. Prone to violence was Graham's game, he never needed an opponent, until he had Dorian.

"I will wait."

Graham, the demon sadist, had fallen in love…with a human…

DK*DK*DK*DK*DK

Eroica reached his goal as Major Eberbach watched. The Major had seen the thief enter through the tower from his grounds; he had taken up walking in the forest at night to clear his head from bad dreams, which involved the man climbing his family's castle.

Klaus had learned from the thief on how to be stealth, if not directly. It seemed the trick was to anticipate the intruder's target and wait there until arrival. Klaus' theory was right as the cat suited man came to the Eberbach collection with a large, flat, object.

_No doubt the copy you tend to swipe for the real one._

He drew his Magnum, headed in, aimed and ordered the thief to turn.

When Dorian did, Klaus almost lost his nerve. The man was defeated; all his arrogance, grace, and light were dead. Klaus didn't understand how, but Graham had taken everything from Dorian, leaving his unfortunate being standing with "The Man in Purple."

Two Hours Later

Major Eberbach was not convinced with the story that his painting had not only been stolen, _before_ Eroica came, but also that he had a fake, a bad one as the thief put it, in his collection for a month and didn't notice it.

So, calling any art dealers or whoever in the middle of the night became a frustration, especially since Eroica was tied up in a chair next to the Major. He wouldn't let the thief out of his sight. On frisking Eroica, Major Eberbach found no knives, sleeping gas, only simple lock picking tools; why would Eroica not bring protection with him?

As he hung up on the third appraiser, he took a moment to calm down and access the task at hand. He had Eroica to himself, the thief was tied and obviously didn't plan on escaping; Eberbach had many questions, and he wanted….yes he wanted to hug the man for finally coming back. Of course, Dorian was there for a painting, not Klaus, but he was there. And there were no creatures of magic and myth, certainly none of his men. Graham would have appeared by now and ripped Klaus to shreds if he knew that someone touched his precious human.

Klaus halted this reverie. The whole time Dorian didn't make any indecent remarks, complain, or try to attempt to be released. During the frisking he was quiet.

Klaus sighed, and then became the Terrible Major.

"NATO has a job for you, Lord Gloria. I have tried to contact you the previous weeks, but you are a hard man to find."

Klaus waited for any sign of rebuttal or flirtation. Nothing.

"I will look over this. Breaking into my house was completely idiotic of you. Thinking you could steal my family's…" Klaus trailed off when Dorian gave him that look for the first time; cold blue filled with hatred…towards him. All the sparkle that made Dorian's eyes shine disappeared and Klaus understood why the man was defeated.

Graham _had_ taken away everything. Nothing was left for Dorian. A gut feeling whispered for Klaus to guess why he couldn't reach North Downs.

_Mein Gott, what did he do to you?_


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

G averted his eyes as the Stingy Bug glared at him. It was more daunting now for the miserly accountant to the agent because…it wasn't human. The creature Lord Gloria claimed to be Mr. James-going by Ponti-had five talons on its hands and feet. The eyes were a striking vermillion shade with black pupils. G wished for the weird little man to come out and say it was all a joke that this creature did not exist. The transvestite prayed for normality. Where the Earl would flirt with the Major and be rejected, the Stingy Bug to complain about prices and for the old days.

The dark humored joke G avoided only made his gut wrench with fear.

Eroica accepted the job after a three year hiatus to which everyone drew their own conclusions. The chief would have loved to see the beautiful man again, if it hadn't been for the way he carried himself. Eroica's old composure and grace were replaced with meekness. He stood firm, answered all questions, and yet his majestic nature, his sexual prowess, and the smile on his face were shadowed. So, the chief had his least favorite subordinate debrief Eroica on this job.

"The microfilm we need will be located in Texas." Klaus began. He put Iron Klaus in front so not to reveal his anxiety in talking to Dorian. "It had lost its carrier as he got into a fight with a gang of sorts. The whole of the Intel did not provide efficient details, except that this film belonged to NATO, Germany. What was also speculated is that it was the KGB branch in America who sent out disguised agents to try and retrieve this data. We know that our man was undercover for the media, but what exactly is in the film is unknown. The agent had an apartment separate from the one already ransacked and that is where we need your services," Klaus let his eyes wander from Dorian to the paper, expecting the man to make a noise or remark. Nothing.

"The other might be secured heavily. Also, even with this horrible report we are able to gather that he has a safe. Your job is to get through the security system and break the safe. Very simple, but…." Klaus breathed. He knew the Terrible Major kept his voice and movements from showing his real concerns, but he needed to watch what he said.

When Eroica quit working for NATO his chief demanded to know. Klaus had no clue; this was after he found his Leopard tank in the front yard. To this day he had no idea how the fop pulled it off. Then Eroica wouldn't accept missions, until he called and gave the final 'no' that he will not work for NATO. Klaus did not greet this news happily.

Wellesley made the blind soldier see; Klaus cared for Dorian. And…Dorian cared for him, it was not an act, the fop's feelings were true.

After the Wellesley disaster the Major didn't see Lord Gloria until he came on inspection of the Achilles statue. Then again when he found the thief returning his painting.

"And, you will be paid for your cooperation."

Dorian listened. He thought the Major to be mad to work with _him _again, but he supposed the chief had been riding his subordinate hard to have Eroica back. Dorian did hear gossip from Agent Lawrence about some almost failed missions involving contractors of the unlawful careers. _Oh, Major, you were always complaining I ruined your missions. Truth is, I got what you came for and you screwed up my plans. How odd._

Eroica smirked. The Major looked up and felt relief; Eroica kept such a sullen face in the briefing that the arrogant smirk he wore now only made Klaus breathe easier.

"Major," Dorian brought a mirrored version of his grace back. "I don't need to be paid. What I would like is to call my accountant and have him join us. You see, I have only this to wear," he gestured to his cat suit, with the air of elegance, "and the mission sounds like it will take some time, so I will have him pack for me and keep me company. Also, I have to phone home to let them know what has become of me."

"Just that creature, no Rolly Poly, or those twins?"

Dorian gulped. He had no idea the fate of his men after that night. Graham assured they were safe. How could he believe a monster? Of course, he agreed to stay in that village. Dorian decided that being with the demon was a Hobson's choice; where else could he go and not harm anyone who got in Graham's way? Graham would soon turn him into a lycan and his attachment to his world gone. He would be a child of darkness and transform into a wolf or fox, as some did.

He sighed, "No, just Ponti."

DK*DK*DK*DK*DK*DK*

Both the Earl and Major Eberbach found no reason to hide Ponti; the Alphabets were frightened of the beast. Lord Gloria knew this. Ponti he used to keep everyone away from him unless he had to speak with them. The mission was in Austin, and the men were scouting for the hidden apartment. The Major only took one third of his subordinates with him because it would not require twenty Germans to find an unknown address. Eroica and his draag spent time in their suite. He was not needed until the break in.

Klaus stood watch outside the door at night. The movements in the suite were few, and the Earl had room service delivered for all meals. Klaus guessed that Ponti also went out to steal food for his employer. He was not sure what he could say. Those eyes. Klaus didn't want to see them again.

The cold blue eyes-damn it! They scared him.

_Dorian, I'm sorry. _

_Dorian, can we talk?_

_Dorian, ich leibe dich._

_Dorian, what did he do to you?_

Sentences went through the Major's head, none seemed to be right. His agitation grew every night he waited for the thief to show.

DK*DK*DK*DK

The Earl of Gloria sat on the bed cross legged with his Ponti eating trash, actual trash. Draags were odd creatures. Consuming ten times their body weight and never gaining a kilo. Dorian sighed. He was bored, but couldn't do much about it. As soon as the mission completed he had to go back to his owner. Graham sent a note with Ponti-the whole of it was not pleasant. Graham did not want 'that Major's' smell on Dorian and he wanted him to get home 'now.' He refused and again told that the demon would wait, until Dorian returned and came back to his senses. To avoid Klaus or any of the Alphabets he kept Ponti nearby and ate alone.

Ponti saw his lord become more anxious. The awful man stood outside the door, waiting, like Graham, but Ponti could keep his lord from getting to the man. His ribs still hurt and he couldn't roll into a ball, but he would take the man. The fat gun he used was no longer scary. If it hit Ponti the pain would be equal to a bee sting. Yes, Ponti could protect his lord from the Terrible German.

DK*DK*DK*DK*DK

August 22sec: Schloss Eberbach's Garden, Gert's First Birthday

Henrietta watched Herr O'Casey in mute delight. The man was perfect. Strong build, but lithe, soft hair and the glasses making him look distinguished; he would be her boy toy if only he weren't a queer. She could watch the toffee being made but had no chance of tasting it.

Tim felt uneasy with that harlot staring at him. Gert played with Edwin and the other babies. He thought maybe it would be a good idea to invite Edwin, but wondered how to explain the truth; Frau Fritz had already been informed by other socialites who knew the Eberbach family. Tim was told this by the woman herself. He owed her now, so he tolerated chatting with her and seeming interested, all his aristocratic charm being used. Of course, introducing her first to his lover Augustine had worked since she did not try any unwanted contact.

Klaus' father was there and women of good breed from nearby-married with children, Frau Fritz the only one from the park. The usual dry conversations went on, also the occasional boast of one child on such and such. What surprised Tim was to see his Augustine talking to Graf Eberbach.

DK*DK*DK*DK*DK

Heinz Erich von dem Eberbach, Graf Eberbach, listened to the story of Col. Augustine Hermann.

"After being gone for only, take my word, five minutes, the privates had somehow not just covered the rookie in shaving cream with foot powder, they also succeeded in filling his whole locker in shaving cream stuffing him in!"

Both retired men laughed, although the Graf's was a more subdued chuckle. He remembered the old rookie initiation done to some of his men back in the war, although it involved beer and a cherry. The new one the Colonel sounded more whimsical. He noticed how the army had changed; due to the lack of a dictator calling all the good people unworthy. Col. Hermann knew the feeling. He was younger than the Graf, but the man like him had been through the war, which scarred their country. Erich could never have this talk with his son. Klaus did not understand the real devil that possessed soldiers during that age.

"Oh my, five minutes? Colonel you must have been training those boys to death with precision like that."

"Graf, I believe people gave me too much credit. I only laid what needed to be done and expected it with the utmost experience to be done well. And if not…" Col. Hermann gave a secret smile understood by the Graf. They laughed again, the old threat bringing memories of happier days in the Tank Defense Force to Erich.

"Gentlemen," they turned to see Dorian standing with some glasses of beer. The party was suppose to be casual, but became formal to necessitate the guests' taste for them to even come. Sekt, a very expensive wine was served; to see beer felt like heaven, Dorian handed them each a glass.

"What have you two been talking about?"

Augustine and Erich gave brief descriptions of their conversation. Erich did not notice that he had been speaking with the man for an hour.

Dorian-Tim-was called by Klaus to help with a drunken idiot. Erich rolled his eyes, honestly the wealthy today were becoming less dignified each year. It seemed expected for them to make fools out their titles.

"Morons."

"Them," Augustine gestured towards the crowd.

"Yes, Col. Hermann. Young people have no sense of propriety and lose their wits to bloody trash magazines. Is that not shameful?"

"It is, but not all are bad."

"Well, it's a disgrace."

They were quiet.

Erich's initial reason for approaching the Colonel was to berate him on displaying such behavior in front of a woman. Kissing Dorian on the lips. Yes, not a long, graphic, one in fact it was a peck, a sweet little contact that Erich himself did with his late wife. On walking to the man he had seen the Colonel show annoyance than actually preparing for the battle.

"Graf von dem Eberbach," he said with acid, "I have had to fight your son for weeks now, fighting you is just a challenge. I haven't seen Dorian-" he stopped realizing his mistake. But Erich didn't let it go. They had come to benevolence after the initial interrogation. The Graf didn't care that his son hired a queer to raise his grandchild, especially when it was a nobleman and knew of the other world having lived with a demon. He remembered Welles and how the man watched his friends like children, him also being a queer. Erich didn't care for a person's preference as long as it stayed away from his family.

He feared that when he suspected Klaus to be in love with that same nobleman-Lord Gloria, alias Eroica. But three years gone and in a demon's bed should have shown Klaus the man was no good. Herr Hinkel gave him the story of the two men and Welles made him think that his son could want that, not with a man- he gave no specifics.

Although, he found the Earl amusing and kind; and his prayers came true when he saw for himself Klaus didn't care for the man. Maybe it was the butler's unease and Welles' theory was about someone else-a woman in reality.

Hearing the tale of Dorian's relationship with Augustine confirmed for the Graf his son was not queer, except in his ways. He looked around. One of these women had to know of a good bride for his son. It was a matter of time.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

They set the man in the kitchen, avoiding his drunken flatulence and disregard of person. Klaus' fury stormed in his silent banging of cabinets for a necessary deterrent of the man's ailment. He wished for a simple dinner in celebration of Gert, but duty as an aristocrat had him with this load of morons drinking at a child's party. Yes, it was only meant to be cleansing for the palette , although the man on the floor didn't care. Dorian took vigil at the door, opting for a quick exit Klaus guessed if he'd have anything else besides the drunkard to talk about. Col. Herrmann was still a sore to him, especially now that he knew Dorian went to the park with the pond to see that man. Agent G had seen them and whispered it to Z. Of course, Klaus could hear, nothing escaped him. The pair would have only time for chat, no more than a few minutes because Dorian was petrified of Klaus' rage.

That knowledge stung him.

He didn't want Dorian afraid of him. He wanted the blonde's love back. He wanted to tell him that he was right; Klaus hated women, the ones making passes at him, and the only exceptions he did not hate being Sister Theresa and his mother. The Sister was like a mother, or how he imagined; kind, maternal, stern in her own way, and gave gratitude to the smallest of gestures. Klaus glanced at the man standing lookout. Dorian possessed those qualities, even in their early acquaintanceship.

What could he do, to make Dorian see him again? He thought of proclaiming his love, but didn't feel right because the Colonel was holding Dorian's affections at the moment, and the sting that the blonde hated him. That look-

"_Breathe Eberbach, don't think about it."_

He did as pulling the drunkard upright became a terrible effort, the hands idiotically groping. After this party, though the man would NEVER get stone cold drunk, leaving the kitchen with a cracked knuckle and that icy green stare burned in him.

DK*DK*DK*DK

All the guest left at four, letting a Major, a Graf, a Colonel, and a nanny have time to cherish in Gert's-Klaus'-unwrapping of presents a simple smile for his new toys. Plush animals for boys and articles of clothing as what the gifts consisted of, the clothes from Gert's grandfather and Dorian. Erich admitted that the clothes weren't flamboyant, so he let it go, as he did the remodeling of the nursery.

Erich's failure to remarry or provide a sufficient nanny for Klaus nagged at him-he loved his wife too much to replace her and Conrad was suitable and adored Klaus, but he still held reign over decisions of upbringing. He remembered Welles warning him he wouldn't be a good father if he had no equal; in Erich's eyes, that became truth. To think he hindered his son's chances at happiness with another woman or friends from his tank commander style of rearing, maybe that was why Klaus didn't try looking for a wife.

Dorian was Klaus' equal with Gert, and that will do until his son found a wife. Maybe the queer could help. Erich couldn't imagine the man would want to stay forever the nanny; he had Augustine and from their talk Erich saw that he wanted more with Dorian, he could tell Klaus to let Dorian go. Klaus needed to take care of his son, job or none, and it would be odd to a woman if the nanny was male. Erich shifted in his seat as Klaus opened the next gift revealing a pack of soft dinosaurs.

Augustine and Dorian sat together watching Gert squeak with his presents. Erich thought fondly of the sight; he didn't understand the attraction of two men or how in God's name it worked in the bedroom, but he knew Dorian to be loyal, putting his façade to save his own life and that of Klaus' and Gert's from enemies. Klaus had friends as Erich saw, which meant just as much as love, even if Klaus did not approve of him. Nevertheless, they were friends.

A simple misunderstanding of the elder Eberbach.

DK*DK*DK*DK*DK*

Dinner was as Klaus wanted it, minus one Colonel, but he had Dorian sit opposite of the man. And then, to his horror, Augustine and his father started bantering with each other on old war jokes. Dorian fed Gert at the head of the table with Klaus, listening from afar because he found this sort of talk a bit boring for his tastes. He also ate his own food in intervals when Gert proved to be difficult. Dorian was quiet, although it turned into a companionable silence, not like the cold dead one Klaus received daily now. He let the Colonel come to the party in hopes of winning Dorian's favor for the day, which did not turn out as it should have.

As the old man began a discussion of tanks, Dorian wondered how to get his Colonel alone for a few minutes, during the party he had a plan for Augustine to sneak back in after Gert was put to bed. All he needed was an excuse to leave the table with his man and tell him.

The opportunity came: "I still have a manual of that type. It's in my car because I don't clean the thing," he gave a sheepish smile, "I'll get it and we can compare to the one you mentioned."

"Perfect, Klaus where is the old book on the Leopard you had?"

Dorian abandoned his chair to swoop to Augustine leaving. "I'll come with you, darling."

"Tim, Gert is not finished!" Klaus would not have Dorian alone with him.

"Let them be. You feed your son; Herr O'Casey's dinner has been interrupted enough." The Graf said.

Dorian giggled and went with Augustine. His car was not impressive, but it was German BMW so that did not give fuel to a certain Major to complain. When the manual was received Dorian pressed his length to Augustine and kissed breathlessly.

"Mien liebling, what is going through your head?"

"A night of romance."

DK*DK*DK*DK*DK*DK

Dorian laid Gert to bed at nine; Augustine left thirty minutes later. Neither Eberbach noticed the lone figure jimmying back through a low window to get into the house, his car parked on the outskirts of the garden as instructed earlier. The ex-thief wanted his Colonel with him and no Eberbach could stop that.

Klaus and Erich drank beer in the parlor. The son dreaded these moments since he expected to be reminded of ranks and marriage; he supposed since having a child his father felt it redundant to mention that. The man believed a wife to be coming soon. Klaus wasn't sure how to tell his father he would never marry; two men couldn't, it was a mockery to a sacred union. He and Dorian didn't need anything except to have medical papers as them for next of kin to each other for emergencies, which would be simple. No stupid ceremony and they had Gert.

With Dorian, Klaus didn't need to worry over sensitivities or mood swings once a month. They could use the bathroom at the same time with little delay in going to bed. The Graf liked Dorian, maybe Klaus would not get disowned for having a male lover. If he was, he still had the apartment and NATO to support them. He believed Dorian to be an excellent partner and already a better father to Gert than Klaus. The sex should be taken slowly due to Klaus' inexperience but at least he was no virgin. He'd been with women back at university, which felt boring like going to the bathroom. Dorian would teach him real lovemaking, the stuff of idiotic ballads and love novels he heard would then make sense when Dorian showed him. When he would say to the Briton that he loves him, then the Wellesley disaster, that sadist Graham, and the plane crash could go to hell.

But, Klaus was a realist, he had two obstacles (1) Dorian might not feel the same anymore that he had to know before pouring out his heart and (2) Colonel Augustine Herrmann. He had to get rid of him, but how?

The man didn't belong to NATO, and despite messy marriages his record was clean. Even with the knowledge of his affairs with men didn't blemish his image, blackmail or threats were out of the way. Klaus tried to scare him off, but at the restaurant it failed miserably with Dorian attempting a drunken blow job under the table.

So, what could he do?

Also, Klaus had to consider in this plan to not upset Dorian, in fact try making the Englishman happy to leave Augustine or reach a lover's agreement to part. Klaus sipped his beer and glanced at his father.

The man had no apparent want to talk, so he continued in his planning; the best situation would be to have the two quarrel and hard. A fight so awful that Dorian would throw Augustine out and run into Klaus' arms, then Klaus could seek deeper and find answers in that vulnerable state, ask the questions boiling his mind.

Did Dorian hate him? Why did he return "The Man in Purple"? What did Graham do to him?

For the first question, if the answer was 'no,' Klaus would tell Dorian he loved him. He wasn't sure what else would accompany that; flowers, a sappy speech, chocolates. No, not sweets. Maybe just holding the beautiful man would be enough. A kiss. Yes. A sweet, long kiss with tongue if Dorian allowed; Klaus' look became one Alphabets knew too well on missions, a man determined. He needed to observe the relationship and find its weaknesses. That meant having to be around the Colonel longer than he wanted to.

Well, in the course of a mission one had to make sacrifices.

DK*DK*DK*DK*DK

Augustine liked this idea. This idea was ecstatic. Best idea Dorian ever had. Over two weeks apart save for moments in the park was almost unbearable. Sneaking back in as he hid his car in the woods was perfect. They kept quiet during lovemaking and had to go to bed early because Augustine must become scarce by morning, before the sun rose.

Dorian cuddled closer to him, nuzzling Augustine's shoulder. In turn, he rubbed his back feeling the scars left over from a sick sadist. Augustine sported wounds of his own; two bullets in the chest and a chemical burn on his left arm. They were nothing compared to the gash that was meant to cut out Dorian's heart or the ones on his back. Dorian said they were ugly and he didn't like the room lit when they were intimate. He thought the scars on Dorian resembled a tree, the pattern of the cuts calculated in the flesh; it told something.

In these moments, when Dorian was calm, Gert tucked away and the Major far away, it seemed appropriate to ask what happened. Many possibilities were there and Augustine quickly knew what he could ask that wouldn't upset Dorian. For tonight, he wanted the story of the plan crash. He knew about finding Gert and a little on the mission before it. Dorian stopped the story at the moment they were caught.

Augustine roused Dorian.

"Mmm…yes, mein Oberst."

"Tell me about the plane crash. I want to know how you got to Peru."

Dorian shifted and inhaled. He stopped at being captured because it wasn't easy to say. The film contained proof of the other world. The men that captured them were trying to sell it to the highest bidder. The auction taking place in Peru, except they were never on a plane, it was magic that crashed the plane and landed them near the Andes. Dorian thought for a moment on what was most plausible. He sensed his beloved didn't take most of his stories to heart, but didn't question them.

Dorian breathed and smiled dazzlingly. _"Someday, my love, someday I will tell you of the world of dreams and nightmares, of Welles the Lazarus, but not now."_

He kissed Augustine and replied, "I can't recall much. When we were blind folded and sagged off to the airport as the plane was starting. I think they believed killing us would be easier from the plane," he paused searching from the rehearsed speech, "I was…punched, yes, and beaten a little," he flinched that was true. "Some of it is not that memorable. Well, another agent, FBI, hid among them. The man was Mexican and he killed the men with the major joining in after getting untied, I don't know how, and I believe I was hiding in an aisle." The story became difficult. Dorian was actually knocked out for when the agent, not FBI, did the whole faked plane crash. He still wasn't sure why the man left them to die.

Augustine sensed the disquiet in Dorian; he rubbed his neck and stroked his hair with the other hand.

Dorian continued, "I passed out then woke up. The agent had left on the only parachute, the pilot dead and we're empty on fuel." Dorian rocked against Augustine holding tightly he urged him to finish. "We landed at the end of a mountain. Spent days walking through forest and found Gert; I didn't know we were in Peru, until I was out of hospital."

"But…how did you get there?" Augustine knew distances well, and from Texas to South America was at least a six hour flight. This gap made no sense.

To Dorian, it made no sense why that damned agent crashed the plane in the first place.

"As I said, I was out."

Dorian shifted in the sheets, meaning end of conversation. The lies were coming easier as he took time to think of them; he felt guilty, he wanted to tell Augustine everything, about his past with Graham and the other world, why he stayed in the Major's employment besides Gert.

"_I have to tell him."_

Augustine wrapped his arms around Dorian and kissed him sweetly, sighing in frustration.

"_Soon, my love, soon."_

When was soon? Would Augustine accept the knowledge or run?

"_If you run from me, I won't blame you. Gert's growing and the Major will have to marry. You're why I want to stay and if you leave me, I will go back to him."_

DK*DK*DK*DK*DK

For the fifth or sixth time, Wellesley Blythe considered just turning the other way. Not go to the schloss, avoid his asshole of a godson and not face Erich. He also knew of Dorian's trials. The information was all over the grid after Agent Jose Babilonia, from the Counsel, crashed the plane in Peru. The man lost his position and was reprimanded for harm to innocents.

Welles held the box in his hands. A present for the first year of the baby was traditional; Klaus amazingly still had the music box he was given as an infant of one. Welles sighed.

It wasn't the first time he wanted to go back and stop those idiots from following him in to the other world. They got wrapped up so deeply that the contract of Dorian's pirate ancestor was brought back to life. And then Titus, the draag parasite inhabiting James' body, gave Pontipoint, James' soul,the body to live. A mess in itself without the complication of Dorian carrying his ancestor's burden and curse.

Welles sighed again. He watched the party from beginning to end, hiding in the trees. He saw Dorian had found someone, the babe Gert was growing, and his idiot godson had finally admitted his feelings but was too late. And poor Erich still clueless to his son's reasoning for not marrying.

"Erich, a great warrior you are, but you passed blindness to Klaus the day your wife died. At least Dorian is happy, despite the collar still on his neck. As long as that sadist doesn't come to this world for him. But then again, as long as he stays in the schloss he's safe. Hmm, amazing that just a few enchantments on the boars and some magic gems and the schloss keeps away our creatures, not us though. I believe we're the worst."

Welles looked around at the castle. Lights were on and Dorian's lover was in his room. Gert's room was on the upper level; maybe he could just leave the package there. Erich did write in his last letter the date and where the party would be, but the sight of Klaus still made Welles' gut wrench, in remembrance of being shot.

"Stupid blind bastard. His fucking tadger's so wrapped between his legs, coward."

Welles decided to go in and give the present to the father.

"What is it?" Klaus asked staring down at the child.

"A blanket made of llama fur and another music box, with the song "Mary had A Little Lamb", I assume you sing that to Gert."

Klaus glared harder. Welles didn't reach his shoulder and the man claimed to almost be eighty years old, but looked fourteen with smooth skin and small frame. His hair was pure black, no color shown in the sun and his eyes were a bright green; to the imagination he looked like a relative of Klaus, but not with the angular facial features and plain clothing and his Geordie accent still thick, making him too English to be considered German.

Welles regarded Klaus similarly. The man had grown a bit since last seeing him…four years ago. He didn't look as constipated and seemed to really love his baby by what Welles gathered from watching in the trees. Erich apparently had fallen asleep. It was good, no awkwardness in his respect for Erich and dislike of Klaus.

"Llama fur?"

"Yes."

Klaus shook the bag. Welles found his paranoia justified for his job, but annoying nonetheless.

"I do…sing that song."

"So, I was right. Good I should leave now."

"Wellesley…"

He turned. Klaus hated his man for ruining his life, but couldn't ignore the fact that maybe he could help him get Dorian. Somehow he had that special sense, to find a person's desire and make it happen; to be honest, more of finding their trouble and solving through it, but still Klaus wanted Dorian to see him again.

"I-I…damn you…can you-"

"Klaus I have been in the trees all day, watching people drink. You want a borderline alcoholic to stay you better offer him a drink."

Klaus snorted, "Bastard."

"Dick head."

They sat in tense silence, Klaus more so since Welles downed four beers and was on his fifth. Yes, he had a problem but he hadn't reached a bad height yet.

"What is it?"

Klaus breathed, "You've noticed that Lord Gloria is working for me and that he has…changed."

"Yes, his switch with that golem was all over the intelligence grid. Ezra and Emile both agreed it to be a tragedy. His Tim O'Casey disguise works well. The man really was a journalist before he died."

"I thought you weren't agents-"

"As I explained, we're not, my friends are my guardians given one duty to fulfill, but they are also contractors, so we get more than we should."

"Makes no sense."

"And again, don't try to make sense, you won't."

Silence.

"So, what about Dorian? Why did you hire him anyway?"

Klaus told the story.

"And now…he's with that-that alte Schwulchtel, and he's got in his head that Dorian…"

"What?" He sipped his beer.

"That Dorian will quit soon and leave."

"He should. He seems terrified of you."

Klaus shrank. He had to endure this bastard's bluntness if he was going to get assistance on this mission.

"_Terrified? No, he hates me."_

A hard hit to Klaus' stomach felt odd. Welles could read people, part of his job for being a shrink, but he understood human nature better than most.

"Welles…"

"Klaus, do you believe Dorian to hate you?"

"Yes."

"I don't think he does."

"I…"

"Klaus, you asshole, he doesn't hate you. I don't know what he feels towards you, but it is not hate."

"How?" Klaus choked.

"Because after three years of getting abused by a demon and being called a mother I would be screwed up a little and not know what to feel towards my former tormentor."

Klaus froze. "You know…"

Welles nodded. His mouth extended out so wide no one could tell if it was a smile or frown, although the guilt in his eyes told the viewer of what it should be.

"Damn you…"

"You don't want to know-"

"Tell me you shit, you owe me that much." Klaus kept calm, he would not yell.

Welles saw through the curtain, a few times he did when Klaus was in his charge. The real man, not the blind soldier lay there with his heart on his sleeve knowing the regret he would feel after the story revealed.

"Alright, you do deserve the truth."

DK*DK*DK*DK*DK*DK

Klaus wanted to hit someone, to shoot Graham's head off.

He made Dorian a mother, he forced sex on him and to give up his various properties. He put Dorian in women's clothing when no guest was at the castle and he had pictures…pornographic pictures of Dorian and himself…in a fucking magazine. Graham's mysterious profession, he owned a large porno magazine company and some sex shoppes in the other world; his specialty: humans and demons in lewd positions together.

Klaus wrenched. Welles didn't look the better; he saw the photos given to him by Dale, fake identity, Charles Lawrence. And it wasn't just Graham with Dorian in those photos. He chugged down his seventh beer. He felt limp, not drunk.

"_The nightmare should end." _Klaus thought.

In his ankle, he hid a small .22 and stared at Welles. The man wouldn't die; no he'd be in a hell of a lot of pain and then regenerate. That was Lazarus, a weapon that could only destroy itself.

Welles got up shakily, his eyes empty for the time being.

He went out the parlor window. Klaus didn't stop him.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Welles flew back on his broom to West Berlin. The wood was sharp oak, light bristles made of hey on the end. There were pedal like foot holders on the lower handle for Welles to maneuver the machine with ease. He wore an aviator's cap and goggles; the ensemble not needed, but he liked the look. He went through Lights Highway to get to Berlin faster, all the time below slowing down. At one he arrived to the apartment where Emile and Ezra were up, probably watching movies or playing strip poker with the neighbors.

Apartments in this area were new but cheap. Ezra insisted they get a new one after the previous ran out of rats for him and Emile to chase and eat. Also, the space was good and with some furniture that came with it.

A young couple passed Welles on the way to the second floor.

The 1980's were proving to be a decade of vibrant hues, spandex, and leg warmers. It made Welles miss the 70's fashions. Nothing wrong with pastels, but they came out mismatched and hurtful to the eye. This bright fashion belonged to the pop music crowd, but Welles as a teacher and shrink had to endure the popularity of big hair and slut make-up for girls and boys were not being boys. The checkered pants prints were the worst. Punk rock and heavy hair metal style did not bother him as much; at least the genders were not unisex like some of the designs for pop.

Welles sighed before he opened the door…to find his friends, his family, his guardians, both with Dale Wilson, aka Charles Lawrence, in a submission hold, Emile screaming bloody murder in fast French.

"Putain dickhole. Je vais pousser ce putain de porte-monnaie de la votre…"

"Emile! Ezra! Off now!"

It did not need to be repeated. The demon and vampire let go of the man and sat meekly on the couch. Emile not so perturbed from continuing his grudge glared at the man. Dale got up, shakily, breathing in sharp breath and feeling winded. He saw Welles and felt relief then dread at the news he came to give. The information was the exact reason for being in the submission hold with those two lunatics; he got to a chair and was handed a glass of water with pain killers. Count on Welles to be kind to someone he despised, even with his indifferent aura every once in a while.

Dale took the pill with the water.

Welles sat between his guardians waiting for the man to give his reason for being here.

Dale took his time. In tense silence and awkwardness he smoked, thank Welles for the water, ate some of the health bar he carried with, put out his cigarette, lit another, nibbled again on his bar, sipped his drink…

"Mr. Wilson, why are you here?"

Welles' tone gave nothing away. Dale could see in truth Welles didn't care why he was there in the first place, probably guessed for the reason, and wanted the whole naked truth.

"Umm…Well, Welles," he sniggered, an old joke he made of the man's name. "You are fully aware that despite our best efforts…"

"Spit it out! You-"

"Emile!"

Emile quieted and Dale spat it out.

"You are not allowed your license to work in this world, Welles. The Council is growing weary and in these times of the Earth being in paranoia of each other, albeit not entirely bullshit, it is possible you might get noticed. Some humans possess-"

"That's bullshit. Welles should be able to work like us," Ezra popped up.

"Yeah, we're more inconspicuous, friggin' hell, I'm a demon for Christ's sake…" Emile exclaimed.

"I drink blood and have fangs. Welles…" Ezra looked toward his charge.

Welles placed a hand on Ezra, signaling for him to be quiet. He did the same with Emile.

"Mr. Wilson, I drank quite a bit tonight and probably ripped out a man's hope of love. I cannot (hiccup) say that I really care for this information. The look the stupid woman at the JDD (Job Distribution Department) gave me said enough. Please leave."

Dale stared at the glass. He did not believe it to be right for this guy to have to suffer so much for nothing. For those who didn't know Wellesley the Lazarus, they assumed him to be dangerous and insane like his predecessors. In truth, the man had more sanity than most politicians. Dale had nothing but respect for Welles; he never showed it, but it was there.

After Dale left, Welles broke down and slumped in the couch trembling, remembering his story to Klaus, and the photos he saw of Dorian. Graham was truly demented, and his insistence for keeping Dorian kept Welles up at night sometimes, of course he didn't sleep for weeks at a time, until he collapsed from exhaustion and became comatose for a few days. But Dorian's ruined life did not help his mind rest.

Ezra noticed the desolate look in his love's eyes. Emile kept his head turned the other way. The three men did not get up from the couch. Ezra transformed into his domestic cat form, his blonde hair turning to different shades as he became the ragamuffin cat he looked like. Emile followed suit and turned into the brown weasel he was. They snuggled into Welles' body, Ezra on his lap and Emile cuddled up to his stomach. Soon, Welles' exhaustion got the better of him and he fell into a fitful sleep, both guardians watching their charge.

"You told him, huh?" Emile asked while chewing bacon.

Welles sipped his juice and nodded.

"Why? That bastard cared nothing for him then, well at least did not admit it and now…NOW he wants poor Dorian," Ezra said from the stove.

"The world is fucked up man. Who are we to say-"

"Emile, don't finish that sentence."

"Just saying, maybe-"

"No! You watch too much crap soap operas."

"Ezra," Welles finally spoke.

Whispered softly and even the hint of pure exhaustion, both demon and vampire turned to listen to their friend, brother, and sometimes father.

"Let Emile talk."

"As I was saying, maybe it is not that Dorian is in this…predicament that Klaus employed him. Remember that dick, Dale, saying that when he came over to "inspect" on the robbery of the Achilles that he and the Alphabet all seemed more concerned with what happened in the house."

Ezra answered by turning off the stove then Irished his coffee.

"I think fat ass admitted his feelings For Dorian at some point, but it was too late. So, taking Dorian in is a way of redeeming himself, although with the child and the faked suicide…."

Emile trailed, losing his train of thought and bit into his furry arm with his jagged teeth.

"It's worse and the same life as with Graham," Welles said, with renewed malice for his godson.

Both nodded and finished the breakfast of leftovers made better by Ezra's hand with butter and soy sauce for flavor.

DK*DK*DK*DK*DK

Kiene Bars is a village made for all beings of the magical world to live in peace. It is not much, a mixture of buildings and forest growing everywhere, houses for humans normal looking, vampires living underground and the demons having their nest and burrows. All is calm and chipper in the village of Keine Bars where no one lives with the assumption one is superior to the other.

Most think that.

There is an old demon, about three hundred, leaning against a tree, holding a ring. The ring is for a man, for it is too big for a woman, and meant for a human. Female demons don't wear rings. The trinkets mess with their claws. The ring has a blue diamond on it, which in this world is actually common place compared to the normal ones. It is an engagement ring; the demon intends to start amends with the human who stole his heart.

Graham waits. He knows all about Dorian and what has happened since Peru. Ponti works for him and won't leave for fear of his life. The draag has been assured that his master is fine, if miserable, so now he must sit and bid the demon's demands until Lord Gloria returns to him. Following Dorian's example, Ponti has given up hope that they can fully escaped the hell that is Graham's idea of a family; although, his baby girl is now with his brother and sister-in-law.

A man in a brown suit, looking as if he belongs at a pencil convention in Ohio, tall and lanky with flaxen dark hair approaches the demon petting the frightened draag. He sits across from the two, an aura of superiority and malice in his gait to them. He has a huge collection of books under his right arm and produces a picnic chair to sit on. He looks at both creatures, sneering at them.

Graham speaks, "Mr. Johnson, what is it you wish to discuss?"

Mr. Johnson, the record keeper, takes out his book and looks at both creatures again.

"I have come with good news for your case, Graham. Here is the contract signed by your great uncle for Benedict's descendent. As you know, a spell was placed so that the boy would look like Benedict, which also meant the boy would have the same life span."

He pauses, searching through the demon's hazel eyes. This one has seen as much as Mr. Johnson, but not enough. Graham gazes at the entity, for Mr. Johnson is neither human nor creature, sitting across from him. The thing should be dead or locked away.

"And?"

Mr. Johnson does not miss a beat, "Well, when Dorian reaches a certain age his life span will end, be it cancer or a heart attack, the body won't exist past its expiration date."

Graham's eyes glow, a sickly inhuman smirk on his face shows his power.

"Tell me the date, Mr. Johnson. I feel more generous towards the one who holds my Dorian."

Mr. Johnson gives him the year in which Dorian's life should end and hands over a copy of the original contract as for Graham not to forget. For Graham's long life, he will not have to wait to have his Dorian, but not weak and fragile, instead a strong lycan in his arms again.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Three months. Klaus glared at the calendar, taunting him with its accuracy. It had been three months since Gert's first birthday and now it was going onto the babe's second Christmas in over a month. Still nothing. Klaus huffed on his third cigarette, he breathed in the heavy smog and sighed. His mission was failing. Nothing seemed to be wrong with Dorian and the Colonel. The man was smart, charming, could play the piano beautifully and knew about the arts. Despite his conservatism and old age he and Dorian found a balance.

Klaus did something to use against them; only problem was Klaus. He, Klaus, was the problem the reason for quarrels between the two lovers. Now he could use his position as the catalyst to get Colonel Hermann to leave Dorian, but there was the chance it could backfire with Dorian running away. Klaus knew if Dorian did go, he would leave for good. Going after him could only further damage the already fragile relationship they had. Klaus leaned back in his chair, inhaling more smoke. What could he do? The Colonel was not leaving anytime soon, controlling Dorian was out of the option; in fact any direct involvement of his own would result in dismay.

Klaus put out his cigarette and headed down to the library where Dorian was with his child. He had also had a hard time keeping his temper because of his mission. Colonel Hermann was at the house more often, at least once every two weeks, and Klaus had decided to spend weekends at the schloss, while living in his apartment during the week, which meant that Dorian had more time with his friends. Klaus scoffed, those two had gotten on his nerves as soon as he met them. Griswold would not shut up about some stupid new wave of pop music and Heinrich was spouting bad jokes through the whole ordeal. Dorian kept Klaus in check before he did anything. The only good part of that meeting was that Colonel Hermann had to leave early to meet an old army friend. He sighed again and opened the library doors.

Klaus looked up and saw the man he loved with Gert. The babe had recently started standing on his own; his waddling was coming along grandly. Gert teetered towards Dorian, supporting himself on the leather couch's edge. Honestly, the sight warmed Klaus and melted his iron. The two most precious people in his life coming together, his son walking and Dorian holding tears back from the sheer purity of the happy moment.

Gert was cooing as he made it to Dorian's arms. Dorian lifted him up and starting swaying the baby boy.

"Wonderful, Gert, simply fantastic my little fighter. My baby boy."

Klaus heard a slight hiccup in Dorian as he said this. The tears he been holding came pouring out and he started to kiss Gert and hold as if to never let go.

Dorian turned his attention to Klaus at the doorway.

Klaus' mission had one good aspect; Dorian was less cold towards him. To the blinded eye, they were friends; or at least acquaintances. Dorian appreciated that Klaus let him see Colonel Herrmann and his friends. Through this, Dorian's whole demeanor improved. He seemed to shine more, not just for the Colonel, but everyone, including the vultures at the park he talked to. His eyes were still dim, though, and Klaus could not help but notice that.

"Major," Klaus looked up at Dorian.

"Yes, Herr O'Casey?"

"Would you like to help Gert walk? He's quite good, just wobbles a bit."

Dorian held the boy to Klaus, whose iron melted more at the sight.

DK*DK*DK*DK*DK

On Monday in NATO's Bonn office, the Alphabets were gossiping about the strange behavior of their superior. Not as if this was new, but it involved a retired colonel and an unknown brunette nanny. G sat with Z, while A pretended to ignore B's insistence on this subject.

"Z, I am telling you, Major Eberbach has an unusual…interest in Tim O'Casey's affairs. It's ridiculous that I see him once at the park with Colonel Herrmann and the Major has me follow them as often as I can, no overtime mind you."

Z grunted. The down side of working with a transvestite was that even without the woman troubles, the emotions could still be imitated.

"Herr G, I believe the Major is just making sure this O'Casey man isn't a spy."

As A heard this, he pounded his fist on his desk; the room went silent.

"Enough," A stood, his chair squeaking and making the room more tense. "Enough of this shit. Yes, shit. I curse, I am a man. Dammit, none of you see, none of you have the gall to say it."

All twenty heads were frozen; the Major would arrive soon, with a new mission for all. What would happen to them if A's outburst was heard?

"Herr A-" N tried but was cut off by the stern look, a rival to Major Eberbach's, that A sported.

"You're all denying the obvious. So was I, but our last mission got me thinking. My wife is the most important thing in my life and so is the child growing in her. Same goes for B, H, M,E, and the others. Even Z and G who have no one, but still hope. We all want the same thing: a family, a home, loved ones. Well, the Major wanted none of that."

Nods were done all around the room, a few subconsciously. The Alpahbets knew of Major Klaus Heinz von dem Eberbach's disdain for social lives and family. They felt the poison in his tongue when he ridiculed one of them for missing work or skipping out early for one reason or another. They all at one point had that look of sheer disapproval thrown at them. They knew, yes they knew.

"My fellow agents, we have been ridiculed for loving our significant others; we can't rebuttal because the Major controls our lives, but this is the truth. The Major is in love with Tim O'Casey," this received loud gasps and groans of 'no' in the room, "Don't be surprised. He's acting the same as he did when… Eroica was alive."

A breathed, this next part was hard. "When Eroica died, the man was crushed. He loved him and seeing him with Graham, whatever that thing was, hurt just as much. Then Eroica killed himself," A breathed again, his chest became tight. He was one of the agents who found the body of the thief and saw the video. "The Major handled it well. Tim O'Casey, believe it or not, looks like Eroica, has the same personality as the man did when we saw him again with Graham. The Major let him near that baby they found and has let the man in his heart."

Not one Alphabet confirmed or denied A's claims. G saw the resemblance of Tim O'Casey to Eroica and spoke of it. Tim O'Casey was similar to Eroica in build and height and seemed to possess the late thief's demeanor towards others. G even as he spied on Colonel Herrmann and Tim could swear that he heard Eroica's voice and saw his radiant smile. Even though the Alphabet had little contact with Major Eberbach's nanny, from a distance they could tell Tim was a kind man and had a big heart with a high tolerance if he handled the Major.

"But…" agent N again tried to speak, with E right behind him, "how can the Major….fall in-in…."

"How can he love another so fast?" E finished for N.

A turned his gaze to the two and said with blasé, "The Major's chance with Eroica was lost completely, long before the Peru mission. The man _will _not let another go away. Don't you all understand, Tim is Eberbach's second wind, and he's not giving up. Men," A gave each a demanding look, a sign that all twenty five agents had to hear, "we may lose the Major, Iron Klaus, NATO's best to love. I have known the man too long to say this isn't true. He can't do family and NATO, Major Eberbach won't let either down if he is in charge, but this job he can quit, a family," A sighed, "he can't."

DK*DK*DK*DK*DK

Dorian sat in the park with Gert playing with his friend, Edwin, who was starting to speak whole sentences, like 'I don't like kraut' or 'Mommy I gotta potty', which made Dorian happy to see the boy grow. He considered Edwin as one of his own, next to Gert, and took it upon himself to watch over the child when his mother couldn't. Like today.

Frau Fritz had decided that Edwin was too old for her to be around constantly and it would be better if he had more time with Gert. Of course, the real reason was because Edwin was getting older and started to ask for more. Henrietta wanted less to do with him, so Dorian had no trouble taking on the task of having two kids. Still no one questioned his relation to Gert, and strangers saw Edwin as Gert's older brother.

The boys were now nudging Dorian to bring them to the swings. He complied because, well who could say no to such faces.

Putting each on one swing seat, Dorian pushed gently, listening to the squeals of contentment coming from such little activity. Dorian sighed. Childhood truly was bliss, and bliss was ignorance.

Later on in the day, as he watched the Major put Gert to sleep, Dorian went straight to his room. He could feel the collar start to form around his neck, the scars on his back began to burn. Hearing the children squeal this afternoon, watching them grow, it all brought back his time with Delilah. The demon cub that Graham seemed to conjure up out of nowhere haunted him. His last memory of the girl was that night that he received "The Man in Purple" and seven hells broke loose.

Dorian reached his room in the nick of time, as the collar appeared on his throat with the chain dangling, giving Dorian pause to glare at it. It seemed each time the thing reappeared the chain would dangle louder as if mocking Dorian's efforts to run away, of course that was untrue; the chain was not alive, only its master, Dorian's master.

_Delilah, where are you? Are you safe? Happy? Has Graham hurt you? My poor child, if only I had strength left in me, I would find you. I would take Gert and Edwin, get Ponti back and we could be a family again, all of us. Oh, dear, you're probably five or six by now. I don't remember._

The last thought struck Dorian more. He choked back a sob that wanted to escape and plopped down on his bed. Tomorrow was another day, he and Augustine would see each other and the world wouldn't be as cruel.

DK*DK*DK*DK*DK

The draag ran in the alley ways of a large city, bleeding profusely. He had been attacked by some harpies on his way to the city and found out exactly how sharp their claws were. It was migrating time for the beast, so it meant that more would peak out of nowhere, probably from Finland or Russia, and start to attack. Harpies were known to be ornery during this time of year because of the change in climate. The little draag trudged his way through the streets as the city lights became less present. He had finally run away and was trying to find his master. He heard the demon sadist speak of him often and decided to use what iota of information he had to find him.

The wounds dried up eventually and the bleeding stopped, but the draag became woozy on details of street names and distances. In a last ditch effort, he decided to use his sense of smell to find his master.

When the draag entered an old neighborhood, he found a faint whiff of his master. Not strong enough to be him, but enough that the draag knew that his master trusted this person. With determination and imagining garbage to eat, the draag broke through a door and climbed three flights of stairs until he found the whiff, which had increased as he approached the door. It was antique from what the creature knew.

Outside his dazed mind heard a familiar screech. The harpies were not done 'playing' yet.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Augustine Herrmann had battled against foes he thought to be the spawn of hell, but the harpies charging in his house after some blue creature were the real offspring. The beasts did not resemble the ugly maidens that would be seen in mythology but were of an unholy nature. They resembled birds of prey that lived near the arctic with grey wings, feathers covering the bodies and they were four feet high. In fact, the only human like quality that the beasts shared were the forward set eyes and the body shape of a human.

The blue thing that came in with the harpies were obviously after was shaking. Nonetheless, it stood its ground in front of the Colonel's bed. Augustine stared in horrid fascination as this creature, who was bleeding, stood ready to pounce at the terrible maidens. One, probably the leader, screeched with all her might and lunged forward. The blue creature whimpered fiercely, taking Augusitne back to his days as a young soldier; back then some men had lost the ability to even try and live for the better. The poor blue creature hardly had any strength to yell and yet took the attention from the harpies as if to let Augustine slip away.

The Colonel took out his .22 and stood up; he was ready to fight these harpies.

Elsewhere, in the apartment of Klaus Heinz von dem Eberbach, Dorian knocked on the door, hoping the discussion would go well. He had notice that the Major had less of a tight grip on him and for that he decided to show him friendship. Dorian reasoned he should have done this long ago, the man got him out of jail and he was able to look after Gert. He breathed in and walked in as the Major called.

"Major Eberbach?"

Said man nodded to his companion.

"I wish to speak with you about Gert's and my future," as Dorian sat the Major seemed to breathe faster.

"Yes?"

Dorian started to fiddle with his hands. He was still unsure of Klaus' anger, but he needed to speak the truth.

"I am concerned, that Gert won't always have me. Since I am a nanny my job is temporary until he reaches a certain age, which is years from now, but still I do believe that it would better for me and him if he had a permanent…person to be here."

Dorian thought it best to drag on the conversation hoping the Major would catch on. He looked up from his hands and saw that the man had a calm aura about him. Dorian remembered that aura from when the Major and Augustine had that huge fight and many other times in his adventures with the man before Wellessley. A thought, a memory actually, came to his head of the time when the Major and Mischa the Cub brawled in that town in Spain. He could not help but giggle a bit at the scene, two ruthless spies having a drunken fight out on the street.

"Why are you laughing?"

Despite the harshness in the man's voice, Dorian just smiled, a real smile, at him and in an imitation of his old self he said, "Oh, Major darling, the most splendid thought popped into my head. It was you and the Cub fighting in the street. Nearing the end of the fight you know, when you, if I remember right grabbed him and you two just tousled on the ground. Oh, dearest, how entertaining it seems now."

As Dorian talked, his hands move in rigidly elegant gestures that the Major had not seen in almost four years. The light tone of his voice and the use of 'dear' to Klaus meant one thing: Dorian was healing.

And Klaus saw it; he saw only a glint the sparkle in Dorian's eyes. Shocked into silence Klaus began to breathe slowly. He was no fool. He was not blind to see why Dorian would smile again. His mission observations had proven more than enough for the truth. Dorian was healing because he was with Colonel Augustine Herrmann.

Anger grew deep in his gut; an old jealousy he hadn't felt in years, the one he got from those others who wanted Dorian or that Dorian wanted grew and grew as this imitation of the old Earl of Gloria appeared.

Klaus lunged at the man and punched him. Dorian went straight to the floor, stunned.

They were at a stalemate. Both men knew what the other could do, in battle and trickery, with weapons and fists, and with tongues. Dorian stayed on the floor, taking shallow breaths, studying Klaus. They had two options: fight or talk.

Dorian had no energy for fighting; three years with a demon sadist took all the fight from him. He took a heavy inhale and with caution got off the floor never looking away from Klaus.

Klaus' stance was like that of the spy he was. He kept his fists balled and back stiff ready to go after the blonde man. He used his height to seem more terrifying.

Dorian stayed near the floor, crouching down waiting for Klaus to do something. As minutes passed, the German seemed to calm as his fists uncurled and his stance softened.

Dorian stood up with his eyes fixed on Klaus. He remembered how Augustine told him that the best way to tell any man of war news that displeased him was to do it directly.

Gulping, Dorian said, "You need to get married…Klaus," no hits but the man looked straight at Dorian. He continued. "Gert needs a mother, not a nanny. I-I want to stay with him Klaus, not-not apart. But I can't, whether you want to fire me or not Klaus, he needs a mother. He deserves that. Just like he has you."

Klaus opened his mouth as if to say something, but he closed it.

"I never said this to you…but Klaus you are a wonderful father. The aristocrats and high society who I meet ask me how you are as a father and you know I could lie, tell them that you are harsh and a workaholic, but I tell them the truth. I tell them that despite your job, you come home every day to play with Gert and that you love him."

Dorian waited as his words sunk in, for Klaus to respond, but nothing again.

"And as Gert needs a mother, no, deserves a mother, I have to leave. Augustine is my future and I want to be with him. I deserve to have a family of my own and so does Augustine."

He looked again. Klaus had grabbed a chair and sat down motioning for Dorian to do the same.

"Klaus…", Dorian had to hear something. Klaus' poker face left him with no idea on what the man was thinking. He sighed. "This is hard for me. It has been hard since you gave me that offer Klaus. Being here…with you and Gert-Oh God, Klaus! It's Graham all over, except its worse. I-"

He choked and like always tried to keep the sob back. A familiar weight was on Dorian's neck and he heard Klaus gasp. The eyes welled up and he could barely hear Klaus speaking.

"I-I, shit. That thing is still on your neck. Verdamt! Das verdammte Kette! When the hell did that thing get back? Dorian?"

The older man looked to see Dorian quietly sobbing, his chest shaking and head bent.

"Dorian?"

Klaus walked to him and put his hand on the blonde man's shoulder avoiding the collar and chain that seemed to appear from thin air. Dorian sniffed and looked up into Klaus' eyes. He saw no malevolence or ulterior motive.

"Klaus, it hurts to be around you. I want to be free from this pain. I feel it every time I look at you or see you with Gert. I…there was a time when I thought that that could be us. You and I raising a child together. I still want that and Augustine is who I can have that with."

Klaus leaned down. He understood that stare now, the look he thought was hate; the look he assumed meant Dorian had no love for him. He knew. Dorian did not-does not hate him; the ex-thief is afraid of him and in pain.

"Klaus, I still love you, don't you understand?"

"Ja."

DK*DK*DK*DK*DK

The next day, police and civilians gathered outside of an old apartment building wondering what was going on. A tall brunette stood with the crowd, frantically searching for his lover who lived in the building. The only information given was that there was a call given sometime that night; wild animals entered the premises and attacked a resident.

Dorian waited outside for an hour, checking over his head for a patch of white hair, a gruff laugh, someone to grab him from behind and tell him he was wrong to believe such a thing.

The collar and chain had not disappeared since last night; Dorian thought it odd, until now. In the confusion of the crowd, Dorian saw a cot being pulled into a morgue truck. He went straight for the apartment.

Being the Ex-Prince of Thieves had its perks. Dorian slipped easily passed the guards into the building through the back entrance. Tenants were locked in their rooms or escaping to work, so Dorian had some difficulty getting to Augustine's apartment. He breathed in hurried gasps. He wore a large scarf, even though it looked ridiculous to hide the collar and the chain he had tucked into his shirt and he started to sweat from the run upstairs.

Dorian was not expecting to find much when he finally entered the apartment. He saw police tape and feathers and blood and feathers and clothes ripped and feathers and furniture turned over and feathers and…and…

Living with magical beings made Dorian learn when an incident was of his world or theirs. The feathers were not birds' feathers. He picked one up and examined the texture. To the eye the feather was silky looking, but touch proved the thing to be sharp as steel and was rough not smooth. Dorian thought of the time of year this was. Harpies tended to fly to the Mediterranean around November along with Wyverns and other flying creatures. It made no sense why they would-

A small whimper came from Augustine's room.

DK*DK*DK*DK*DK*DK

Ponti smelled him. Despite the blood and sweat, he could smell his master nearby. The poor man that tried protecting him was dead, killed by those wretched harpies. His master opened the door to his hiding spot.

"Oh, Mother Mary!"

Ponti felt himself being lifted and cuddled into warm arms. His master was shaking violently and Ponti could feel his master sobbing quietly. This reminded him of many nights his master cried because of the demon sadist. His master took him out and at that moment Ponti decided he would rest just a bit.

At the funeral of Colonel Augustine Herrmann was filled with his old troop buddies, his ex-superiors, ex-wives and Tim O'Casey with Griswold and Heinrich. The priest knew Augustine well, so the pious mand told stories of the volunteer work he had done for the church. Many of the army men came up and paid tribute, including the old recruits Colonel Herrmann had trained. His three ex-wives did not add any discomfort, nor did they make their presence less awkward. Tim and his employer's father, Graf Eberbach sat together in the back with Tim's friends, listening to the stories and praises, tributes and some speeches made in the Colonel's honor.

When all the arrangements done and the Colonel buried alongside his fellow men; Tim was told by Colonel Herrmann's lawyer to attend the reading of the will.

In uptown Bonn, Tim O'Casey sat with three angered middle-aged woman in a nice office, furnished with burgundy leather chairs and a chestnut colored desk that the lawyer sat at.

"Thank you all for coming today. Now, as I know that we would like our time to grieve the loss of the Colonel," he said in a practiced voice.

The women grunted. Tim did not respond.

"Well, to read in the words of the Colonel 'I have not always been a good man, but I hope to amend those I left in life,'" the three women snorted and nodded. "'I leave all my possessions to mein lieber Soldat, Timothy O'Casey. I also give Herr O'Casey half of my inheritance and what is left of my money. The rest of the money I give to the Church. My apartment is given to whomever my landlord sells it to.'"

The women were fidgeting now. Their ex-husband had pretty much given everything to that man and the church. What was left for them?

"Please do not be offended ladies, I am just reading what the Colonel wrote. 'To my ex-wives, Linda, Greta, and Penelope, I must say, if you're there, sorry you bunch of-'", he stopped hoping the women would not press him on. The lawyer looked at their faces; they were daring him to not continue. The lawyer breathed and began again. "'she-toads, you get nothing. The alimony was enough, good bye.'"

After some yelling the women stormed out. Tim sat there waiting to receive the keys.

"And Herr O'Casey, you are expected to remove all the furniture and possessions by the sixteenth of December."

DK*DK*DK*DK*DK

Dorian tended to Ponti's wounds again that day. Three weeks had passed since Augustine's death and the funeral left Dorian drained. He looked at the calendar; it was November thirtieth. He had two weeks before the landlord would throw away Augustine's possessions.

Klaus stood in the doorway watching Ponti be re-bandaged and having the gashes on his sides gauzed. The injuries had gotten better since Dorian brought the draag home. Klaus kept observing the process. Dorian had not said a word about the Colonel's death or had any symptoms of grief.

The man was in shock, as Klaus concluded after the first few days. The fake brunette's moves were mechanical and his caring for Gert seemed strained. Klaus was not sure when the breaking point would be for the man, but he was ready for it.

Even his father, Erich von dem Eberbach, was waiting for when Dorian broke. The elder Eberbach made it clear that he would not leave until he was sure his grandson was safe. Klaus snorted. Dorian would rather cut off his own fingers than harm his child. So, Klaus kept vigilant of the man, hoping that….

Klaus knew his chance was gone, but helping Dorian was his mission now. The man still needed to heal.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

The Gateway to the world of creatures has a bridge, or more so an entrance. The bridge could be small or large depending on where the Gateway is. In Germany, Bonn is the Gateway and its bridge the outer limits of the city, near Schloss Eberbach.

One day, a young vampire girl who had just taken her first blood from humans and gained sight during the sun walked merrily along her way, with sunglasses. She still had to get used to the light and the shades helped. As she walked she heard an odd whimpering. She listened closely. Walking alongside the bridge was not allowed unless she had her mother with her, but she thought during the day it would be safe since idiotic humans did not come so early. The whimpering continued, and the girl thought it could not be an animal or one of her kind. No, it sounded foreign. Against her better judgment, she crept towards the sound.

Listening more closely the girl was able to tell why the whimpering had sounded foreign; it was sobbing. She thought cautiously that if it was one of their humans she would turn the other way. Most of their humans tended to be nasty. If the sobbing came from the humans of the other world then she would get the sheriff to take care of it. She finally spotted the pitiful sobbing human. Not one of theirs, for she could sense that he held no magic, but the others. What was strange was that the human did not seem lost. Frightened yes, but he knew where he was going by following the path. The girl also noticed the collar and chain.

So, the human had an owner. The girl came out of her hiding place in hopes to help the poor man.

"Sir," she said.

The man stopped in his trail and turned to her. He did not have astonishment or bewilderment on his face, just seemed taken aback that someone else was out. The girl got a good look at the man. He was taller than her, had brown curly hair, and dim blue eyes, blood shot from crying.

The man swallowed and said, "Hello, may I help you?"

His voice was broken the girl could tell. It was not from the crying but rather…defeat. The girl had many relatives who fought in wars and she could see that the man had lost something.

"Are you lost?"

He sniffed, "No, dear. I know where I should go."

She shuffled her feet.

"Can you find it by yourself?"

"Yes."

The man looked her expecting more. The girl did not disappoint.

"I could-uuuhhhh…come with you."

"Why?" He sounded annoyed.

The girl shuffled her feet more. What could she say to the man?

"You've taken your first bite, I see. Tell me, dear, how is the daytime?"

She gulped not meeting his eyes. "I think it's wonderful. I didn't hate the night, but colors are brighter during the day and the flowers that grow outside my house are more-"

"Vibrant."

"Yes."

He sniffed. "Huh, a year ago I had employed a vampire who had taken his first bite. He was quite," he places his right ring finger on his chin, "distracted to say the least. I had a big garden with the most beautiful flowers and statues adorning every crevice to add more extravagance. He did not mean to slack off, I know this, but I suppose it is like getting your eyesight for the first time."

The girl stared at the man. Demon servants were not supposed to have jobs; that is what her mother and father told her. Of course, she knew few demons to begin with living in an all vampire community.

"What is your name?"

The girl kept her eyes downcast. "Hilda."

"Well, Hilda my dear, you should not be here. Yes, your powers have grown and you can see, but you never know if there is a monster lurking around."

Hilda ran away from the dim eyed man. Only a true sadist would want a human so empty.

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Dorian watched the young vampire run away. He continued his pointless walk. In truth, he had no idea how to get anywhere. The only path in front of him was the bridge and he had passed the way to Keine Bars some time ago. He did not lie to the poor girl. He _knew _where he should be, but did not risk going there; although, the note he left for Klaus was a lie.

As the journey went on, Dorian thought of Gert. Klaus was a good father; he would find someone to be the babe's mother. The man would never love the woman, but that did not matter to Dorian. He was free now. Graham had no idea where he was and Klaus believed him to be with the sadist. Ponti was a bit hard. Dorian sighed. The draag he left in the hands of a nice witch who needed some help at her house. An old spinster she was…

He stopped. Ahead, a few feet, was Wellesley the Lazarus.

"What do you want?"

Wellesley curled his lip and clicked his tongue before answering, "Klaus called me. I came looking for you."

"What would that man want? I am not returning."

"You plan to end it."

Dorian closed his eyes and nodded. The 'break down' as Klaus and Erich put it happened on his own terms. Living with Graham was hell. Living with Klaus was hell. Klaus, Dorian could escape and never see again, but Graham…he had to return eventually. Legally he still belonged to the sadist. Suicide guaranteed him Hell, but could it be worse?

Wellesley bowed his head. "I can't make Graham give you up. I can't end the contract. I-I wish I could have done something to save you from this."

"Wellesley," for a minute, his voice sounded tender.

"Yes."

"I have never blamed you for this. I'm not mad at you or anyone by that matter."

"Dorian-"

He put up a hand. "Let me finish. My fate was decided long ago, before I was even a thought. I have accepted that. And many other things," he looks at Wellesley for a moment. "I can't be Eroica or Lord Gloria anymore. I buried those two a year ago and I plan to make that incident real."

Wellesley stared at Dorian. The man's blue eyes were dull. He breathed and said, "Who are you burying, Dorian or Tim?"

"I don't know."

"Then," he walked straight to Dorian, "you will live."

Wellesley threw sleeping powder in Dorian's face, knocking the man out. He grabbed him and called Emile in his full demon form, which was a giant fox creature with bull horns. He strapped Dorian on before he got on and kicked Emile signaling for them to leave. Ezra was at the schloss watching Klaus and his father, just in case.

Wellesley took out his crucifix and said a little prayer, before he locked the door with his godson and Dorian. His approach to end the situation was simply to let Klaus and Dorian fight it out. Ezra tackled Klaus and threw him in the room while he shoved Dorian behind it. He was not sure of what would happen, but he had the idea that the two would find a balance. Meanwhile, he and his guardians had a sadist to speak to.

True, Wellesley could not make Graham give up Dorian, but he could change the contract to give the ex-thief some piece.

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"No!" Dorian croaked.

"Verdammt, what did I do? What made you this-verdammt!"

Klaus and Dorian were in the third hour of yelling at each other. Erich had charge of his grandson and the house was deaf to the two powers hanging in the air. Ponti was sitting outside the door, despite Erich's and Wellesley's warning. Getting the draag back from the witch was easy; Wellesley offered the old woman a more experienced draag instead.

Dorian sat on the bed, head bowed and softly sobbing. Klaus stood his fists balled again. Both shook from the last outburst.

"Dorian, please just tell me. What can I do….please."

Dorian rocked back and forth on the bed, holding himself. He looked up at Klaus and saw the sincerity in the man's eyes; he even relaxed his stance with his arms drooping by his sides.

"Do you want to see what that sadist did? Klaus," Dorian used the name because he did not care if the man got angry over his title, "I love you, I told you that, but…."

He breathed in and continued, "I can't do it again."

"What? Verdammt, what is 'it'?"

Dorian stood up from the bed and unbuttoned his shirt. Klaus stared, feeling odd at watching his loved one undress but trying to see where this was leading to. Dorian turned as his shirt fell and heard a strangled sound, maybe a gasp, from behind.

Klaus did not know the extent of the damage left on Dorian's body; he assumed there would be some scars. The jagged white flesh in front of him had another story. Dorian faced him again with a grim smile.

"Klaus, I can't give you my heart again. I paid for that and I don't trust you," he unzipped his pants to reveal the other scars on his thighs, "I am not pretty anymore, and I don't think I can be the man I used to be. Please, just let me go."

As a soldier, as a NATO agent, Klaus knew torture. He also knew when it was personal too. What he did not want to know was why there was a giant gash on Dorian's chest, where his heart was.

He spoke, "Graham…tried to rip out your heart."

Dorian nodded. He started to shake again.

Klaus came to him. The German was not a romantic, but he was direct.

"Dorian," the ex-thief looked at him, "I love you."

Dorian shook more and tried to get away, but Klaus grabbed him. Dorian whimpered as Klaus led him to the bed, his clothes still left on the floor.

"I lost you, and when you came to steal that painting, I was happy to finally have you in my life again. Then I saw that that sadist made you come. I-I want you to trust me, so please hear me out."

The half-naked man shook violently, the room was not warm. Klaus got the cover and wrapped it around Dorian.

"Gert needs a mother, yes; you are his mother. You gave him a life and a home. I am his father, but I know I don't spend enough time home. Dorian, I do love you and I am willing to wait for your trust, but Gert needs us," Klaus places his hand on Dorian's shoulder. When he did not flinch away, Klaus took that as a good sign. "Augustine would want you to live. Gert needs you to live. I won't let you die."

"I…"

"Yes, tell me."

"K-Klaus, I can't be who I used to be."

"So?"

"You fell in love with Eroica and Lord Gloria, they've been dead to me for a long time. I'm not really sure if Dorian really exists."

"You do," Klaus cupped Dorian's face in his hands. "I love you, Dorian Red Gloria."

"Klaus Heinz von dem Eberbach," Dorian smiled soppily, "I love you too, but…"

"Ssshh, I will wait. Just stay and live."

Dorian leaned into Klaus. They embraced softly, which meant Dorian agreed to stay. Sometime later, Dorian lay asleep in Klaus' arms. He still had only his underwear on, but Klaus had him covered in all the blankets. He watched his angel sleep peacefully, calculating his new mission, to gain back his trust would be difficult and there was no guarantee Dorian and him would ever be actual lovers, but Dorian would stay. The only problem was one Klaus did not want to voice, but it went through his head multiple times that evening.

What about Graham and the contract?


End file.
